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mononijikayu · 3 months ago

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what’s your type? — gojo satoru.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?” “Ask away.” “.........What’s your type?” You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?” “I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much. Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—” You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 10k words.

NOTE: feeling a little bit better, no more fever. but im still longing for satoru. he won second place in the last poll, so his story has to be contrasting sukuna!!! thank you for still reading my works and healing with me. it's really healing to just take time and see him be the silly man he is. i love him so much, guys. so so much!!!

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u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

November 2005

IT'S ALMOST BEEN SIX MONTHS AND SOMEHOW HE STILL DOESN’T KNOW YOU. And because of this he doesn’t think he can sleep at night. You were Gojo Satoru's senpai, a figure shrouded in mystery and calm that even he, with all his power and insight, could not easily unravel. To Satoru, you were more of an enigma than he could ever hope to be—a person who never spoke more than necessary, and when you did, it was with careful precision, revealing only what was directly asked.

You were a Zen'in by blood, yet you never uttered a word of reproach against your relatives, despite their reputation. It was no secret that the Zen'in clan was a place of harshness and cruelty, but you kept your thoughts tightly sealed, never letting your personal feelings slip. Not even with discontent, it somehow never found a way out of your lips. Your life outside of missions and the classroom was a locked box that Satoru could never open.

Gojo Satoru can’t help it, but he often finds himself wondering about you. Your restraint, your quiet strength. Everything about you was so unlike him, so tranquil and graceful and yet, in some ways, it was what made you so fascinating to him. He knew you didn’t like the higher–ups, nor the clan elders; it was in the way your deep purple eyes would narrow ever so slightly during meetings, in the subtle tension in your posture.

But you never voiced your displeasure, not even in private. Yaga–sensei thinks you got that from your father. And you were too much like him. It was unquestionable, unshakable, vibrant loyalty to the jujutsu world, but Gojo Satoru couldn't tell whether it was out of duty, fear, or something else entirely.

For someone like Gojo Satoru, who thrived on breaking down barriers and challenging the status quo the moment he was born, your unwavering silence on certain matters was almost infuriating. He doesn’t think you were that way when you were born either. But perhaps he was used to being the one who held all the cards, who saw through people with ease.

Yet with you, he was left guessing, speculating. You were the aloof cloud he can never understand. Even when he tried to prod for more, you would give him just enough to satisfy his immediate curiosity but never enough to truly understand you. And that’s what he wanted. He wanted to understand you. To get to know you. To be close to you.

It wasn't that you were cold or distant—far from it, he thinks. You were always there, always supportive when it mattered. Maybe even more than Yaga–sensei sometimes. But you kept your past, your thoughts, and your emotions locked away in a treasure trove he’s been trying to find. And just as always, it was leaving Satoru to wonder what kind of experiences shaped the person you were. Were you haunted by the same ghosts that plagued him, or was your silence a shield against something far darker?

To him, you were like a mirror that reflected his own complexities. The first in centuries to be born with the gift of Ryomen Hiromi, the only heir of the Zen’in clan in its lifetime. But maybe you were someone with a filter that softens the edges. You represented a kind of strength that didn’t need to flaunt itself—a quiet resilience that came from facing the world with resolve and not letting it change who you were at your core.

In a world full of curses and chaos, where everyone had their demons, you remained the one riddle Gojo Satoru couldn’t solve. A mystery he wished to solve. And perhaps that was why, despite all his power and knowledge, he found himself drawn to you again and again, in search of the answer to the question that haunted him the most: Who were you, really? Who was this senpai he looked up to the most?

The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gojo Satoru's footsteps as he paced back and forth. His restless energy filled the space, making it impossible for Geto Suguru to focus on his book. After a few more laps, Suguru finally had enough and gave up, placing the book aside.

"Satoru, would you stop that? You're making me dizzy." Suguru said, rubbing his temples in frustration. “And now the book feels moot to your annoying footsteps.”

Satoru paused mid-step, looking at Suguru with a pout. "I can't help it! I’m just too curious about them. They’re always so secretive."

Ieiri Shoko, who had been watching the scene unfold from her spot on the couch, took a drag from her cigarette before chiming in. "Let him be, Suguru. At least he’ll burn off some of that energy. We might actually get some peace and quiet later."

Satoru shot her a playful glare. "I’m not that bad."

Shoko raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue the point. Instead, she leaned back and let out a soft sigh, enjoying the rare moment of levity. "Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that."

Suguru, however, wasn’t quite done. "You shouldn’t pry into their life, Satoru. That’s their business, not ours."

Satoru crossed his arms, his curiosity still burning brightly in his eyes. "But they never talk about anything! Don't you want to know more about them?"

Shoko nodded in agreement with Suguru. "I do, but it’s not our place to dig into their past. If they want to share something, they will. Until then, we respect their privacy."

Satoru sighed, his excitement dimming slightly. He knew they were right, but it didn’t make it any easier. There was something about the mystery that you carried with you that kept pulling him in, a puzzle that he was desperate to solve.

"Fine." he conceded, plopping down on the couch next to Shoko. "But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to keep wondering."

Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. "Knowing you, that’s as close to restraint as we’re going to get."

Shoko smirked and gave Satoru a light tap on the head. "Just don’t let it consume you, alright?"

Satoru grinned, though the curiosity still lingered in his expression. "No promises.”

Satoru leaned back on the couch, trying to shake off his curiosity about you, but it was harder than he expected. His mind kept wandering back to the mystery that was his strong, dependable senpai. Despite the warnings from Suguru and Shoko, he couldn't help himself.

"Come on, Suguru, don’t you wonder about anything? Like, what type of women they’re into?" Satoru suddenly asked, unable to keep the question to himself any longer.

Suguru rolled his eyes, clearly not interested in entertaining Satoru’s curiosity any further. He has had enough for a whole day already. He sighed. "Satoru, seriously? I thought you put it to rest already!”

“But I wanna know more about them. What’s their favorite mochi? Do they like coffee? What’s their favorite cafe? Do they like idols? What’s their type—”

“Satoru, stop—Ah, my ear! That was so loud!”

“Suguboo!” The blue eyed sorcerer cried as he leaned against Suguru’s shoulder as Suguru groaned with exasperation, trying to get Satoru off him.

But Shoko, who had been lazily biting the lollipop in her mouth, suddenly perked up at the sight. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she pulled out her flip phone, her fingers typing away with practiced ease.

Satoru noticed and immediately scooted closer. "Wait, Shoko, what are you doing? Do you know something? Don’t tell me you have senpai’s number. Are you texting them? Tell me! I’m dying here!"

Shoko grinned, enjoying the moment as she finished typing. She flipped the phone around, showing Satoru the screen.

His cerulean. eyes zeroed in on the contact name: Utahime–senpai. Then, underneath, a simple message: Eh? Hm…..Yuki–senpai asked them one time, and Yuki-senpai said that they answered Norika Fujiwara—that’s our senpai’s type, which bummed Yuki-senpai. She's not senpai's type.’

"Yuki-senpai, the special grade abroad?"

"I guess so." Shoko retorted back to Suguru. "Apparently she and our senpai's close."

"Hm, that makes sense." Suguru nodded back at his friend. "Huh, I never expected that senpai would be into women. Good for them."

"Right?" Shoko grinned back at the long haired sorcerer. "Women are the best!"

For a moment, Satoru just stared, processing the information. "Wait, Norika Fujiwara? That’s…"

"Yup." Shoko said, her grin widening as she leaned back, clearly amused by his reaction.

Satoru’s eyes widened as it finally hit him. "Our senpai… is into women?"

Shoko chuckled as Suguru shot her a mildly disapproving look, but even he couldn't suppress a small smile. "You know, this makes sense now. Kyoto High has K-1 events on their TV. And Norika Fujiwara's on the programs sometimes."

"Heh, you're right!" Shoko grins at her friend. "I wonder if they only watch for Noriko Fujiwara."

"I don't think our Senpai's that shallow, Shoko."

"Well anyway, you did say you wanted to know more about them." Shoko said, putting her phone away. She raised her thumb up for Satoru. “Now you do!”

Satoru was stunned. He had always respected you as a powerful and composed figure, but somehow this revelation made you even more intriguing in his eyes. "Wow… just when I thought I couldn’t admire them more. They're becoming cooler by the day. You guys don't understand!"

Suguru sighed, shaking his head at the whole exchange. "Satoru, you really are something else."

"Hey, I’m just appreciating my senpai!" Satoru shot back, but his tone was lighter now, a mix of surprise and admiration in his voice.

Shoko smirked, clearly pleased with herself. "Well, now you know. Just don’t let it go to your head."

Satoru nodded, but it was clear from his expression that this little tidbit of knowledge had only deepened the enigma that you were to him. Because he couldn't help it, when it came to you. He couldn't help but want to know more.

He stood up, trying to open his canned soda and sighed. He thinks he feels faint. But maybe, just maybe, its the weather. He feels unwell, somhow. Gojo Satoru sighed. He should sleep more.

THE AUTUMN LEAVES MARKED YOUR ARRIVAL. The next few days saw you at Jujutsu High, filing a report about a recent mission in the Tokyo Metropolitan Area. The mission had gone smoothly, but there was something about the activity at a nearby temple that piqued your interest, so you planned to stay on campus all day before heading out to investigate.

Satoru had been unusually quiet since your arrival. He watched you from a distance, his usual playful banter replaced by a thoughtful silence. He still hadn’t figured out how to bring up what he’d learned about you—how could he, when the revelation had left him so distracted?

By the time you suggested sparring, hoping to shake off the tension in the air, Satoru seemed eager to agree. The two of you moved through the training area, exchanging blows with a familiarity that spoke of years of experience. But something was off. Satoru wasn’t as sharp as usual; his mind was clearly elsewhere.

You took advantage of the momentary lapse in his concentration. In a quick, fluid motion, you downed him, pinning him to the ground with a sigh. He groaned, feeling the ground and gravel against his face.

"You’re stupid to let me have a shot at downing you, Gojo-kun." you muttered, shaking your head. “That was a rookie mistake.”

Satoru blinked up at you, startled by your words, before realizing his mistake. He had let his guard down completely. He sighed, a rare admission of fault slipping past his lips. "Yeah, sorry. I’m just… distracted."

You raised an eyebrow, still holding him in place. "Distracted? What's going on, Gojo-kun? Is it about a mission or something to do with the jujutsu you’re working on?"

He hesitated, trying to find the right words. It wasn’t like him to be at a loss, but this was different. His thoughts were clouded by what he had discovered, and now, faced with you directly, he wasn’t sure how to bring it up. Finally, he decided to dodge, just a little.

"It’s nothing serious. Just something on my mind that I can’t quite shake."

You narrowed your eyes, clearly not convinced but deciding to let it slide for the moment. You released him, standing up and offering a hand to help him up. "Well, whatever it is, don’t let it cloud your judgment. You can’t afford to be distracted out there."

Satoru took your hand and stood up, brushing the dust off his clothes. He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Yeah, I know. Thanks, senpai."

You studied him for a moment longer, clearly aware that something was off but choosing not to press further. "Just remember, Gojo-kun—whatever it is, you can talk to me. I’m here if you need anything."

He nodded again, appreciating your offer but still unsure how to approach the topic of what he’d learned. "I’ll keep that in mind."

With that, the two of you continued your sparring session, but Satoru's thoughts remained tangled. The revelation had stirred something in him, and he knew he couldn’t keep it to himself forever. But for now, he would focus on the task at hand, trying to push the distraction aside until he could find the right moment—and the right words—to bring it up with you.

You cracked open your canned soda, the familiar hiss of carbonation filling the quiet evening air. Taking a sip, you glanced at Satoru, who was fiddling with his own sweet drink, clearly still wrestling with his thoughts. You couldn’t help but smile, the tension between you now a thing of the past.

“Senpai, can I ask you something?”

“Ask away.”

“.........What’s your type?”

You blinked, your eyes darting to him. The rustle of leaves against the wind was loud. “What?”

“I….I liked that photo of Waka Inoue, but it’s nothing much, really. Pretty face, pretty lady. But I have to say, Shoko said its icky cause it’s creepy that Waka Inoue looks like her but—”

You start to laugh. “Gojo, you are something, aren’t you?”

He blushes, almost embarrassed as you shake your head at him. “......Is it bad?”

“Hm, not at all.” You snickered at him. “You’re just curious. But I now have a question!”

“Y–yes, senpai?”

“Was it Mei–Mei or Utahime?”

“!?” His face was priceless. It was as though he was a child who had just been caught stealing cookies during the night in the kitchen.

"Ah, Shoko must have asked Utahime." you began, the amusement evident in your voice, "Man, that girl has a big fat crush on Shoko, doesn’t she? She just gave up easily. At least with Mei–Mei, it will be a good five million yen.”

Satoru didn’t respond immediately, focusing instead on opening his drink. His silence spoke volumes, and you chuckled once more with a softer essence, shaking your head.

“Well, it’s not like I’m hiding anything.” You tout, sighing as you look at him. “But I guess that I’m not as obvious as they come, I suppose.”

Taking another sip, you continued, "I do like Fujiwara Norika. She’s my type of woman. Looking back at it now, she reminds me of someone I dated once. And I think that makes Yuki-chan feel like she has to dye her hair brown now."

Satoru froze mid-sip, and the next thing you knew, he was sputtering, spitting out his drink in surprise. "You… you dated before?" he blurted out, his eyes wide with shock. "Do...do I know them?"

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. "Why wouldn’t I? I’m older than you by a couple of years, you know? And it wasn’t really a secret....Hm.....Would you know? I don't think you liked anyone else from the other clans. But I guess in a way, it doesn't matter, you know?”

Satoru stared at you, still processing what you had said, but then he noticed the brief flicker of sadness that crossed your face, even when you try to laugh it off. It was subtle, barely there, but for someone as perceptive as Satoru, it was impossible to miss. His usual playful demeanor softened, and he watched you carefully, sensing that there was more to the story.

You sighed, looking out at the horizon, your voice quieter now. "I loved someone a long time ago, Gojo. And it broke my heart when she left. But that’s over now.”

The weight of your words hung in the air between you, and for once, Satoru didn’t know what to say. He could see the pain in your eyes, a pain that was buried deep but still lingered, like an old wound that hadn’t quite healed.

"But, Gojo-kun....you know…." you continued, your voice growing steadier, "I didn’t love her because she was a woman. Or that she looked like Fujiwara Noriko. Even if that's what others believed. I loved her because she brought me to life."

Satoru was silent, absorbing what you had just shared. He could see now that your quiet strength, the way you carried yourself, had been shaped by experiences that ran deep—experiences that he had never even guessed at.

You turned to him with a genuine smile. "People like us have the rarity of that, don't you think? Not has the shot to be brought to life by love."

For a moment, the two of you stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows around you. Satoru finally broke the silence, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "I’m sorry, senpai. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful."

You shook your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "It’s alright, Gojo-kun. You didn't upset me at all. It’s part of life, part of who I am. And you asked properly. It was right to be honest. Besides, what makes us human if we don't carry our own stories with us, don’t we?"

Satoru nodded slowly, feeling a new sense of respect for you. He had always admired your strength, but now he understood that it wasn’t just about power or skill. It was also about the resilience you had built through the pain of loss, through the love that had once lifted you and then left you heartbroken.

"Thanks for telling me, senpai." he finally said, his usual bravado tempered by genuine gratitude.

You nodded, appreciating his sincerity. "Just remember, Gojo-kun. Your curiosity isn’t a bad thing. But some things take time to understand. Don’t be in such a hurry to know everything all at once. Even about me. Just….just enjoy things little by little.”

He smiled, a small, thoughtful smile that showed he was taking your words to heart. "I’ll try to remember that."

You leaned closer to him and let your palm pat his head. He gasped, looking up to you as he nearly dropped his soda. You laugh. “Aren’t you my cute, curious and dependable kouhai, Gojo Satoru!”

Gojo Satoru felt his ears turn red as much as his body. He lowered his head, enjoying your touch on his hair. Gentle and yet tenderly comforting all at once. He wished you didn’t have this much of an effect on him. But he supposed that he knew that he’s not good like that when it comes to you.

With that, the two of you stood in comfortable silence, sipping your drinks as the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the world bathed in twilight. It was a rare, quiet moment between two powerful sorcerers, a moment where the weight of your shared experiences brought you closer together, not just as comrades, but as individuals who had lived, loved, and lost in the ever-unforgiving world of jujutsu.

January 2006

IT’S HARD TO BELIEVE ITS NEW YEAR AGAIN.The cold Kyoto air was crisp as Satoru, Suguru, Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara made their way up the steps to your family’s ancestral Mikoto temple in the heart of Kyoto. The New Year had come fast approaching, and while you had insisted they didn’t need to make the trip all the way to Kyoto just for you, Gojo Satoru had been adamant to see you. As he always was. He was just that sort of young man.

Satoru's enthusiasm for joining you at the temple for New Year's was palpable, his childlike pout accentuating just how much he wanted to be there. Despite your logical protests about the cold and the crowd, Satoru seemed undeterred, his energy almost infectious.

“It’ll be too crowded, Gojo-kun.” you said with a raised brow, trying to keep a firm stance on your decision. “And not to mention too cold. Just stay in Tokyo.”

But Satoru wasn't one to give up easily, especially not when it came to spending time with you. He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in a way that made you sigh in exasperation. “Ehhhhhh, I don’t want to.” His voice was a playful whine. “Come on, senpai! Me being there would make it all fun.”

Suguru, always the calm voice of reason, chimed in from beside him, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “We’re going to be there too, Satoru.” he pointed out, his tone laced with subtle amusement. “Are we just chopped liver to you?”

Shoko, ever the instigator, snickered at the exchange. “When it comes to our senpai, that big baby is going to be thinking about him.”

Satoru’s indignant protest was immediate. “Hey, I’m not a big baby!”

Before you could respond, Haibara’s grin lit up the conversation. “I’ll go too! I think it would be fun to see how Bishamon temples do festivals.”

Nanami, however, wasn’t as enthusiastic. “I don’t.” he mumbled under his breath, pushing his hair out of his face with a resigned air. “It would be too cold. And I don’t wanna get a cold.”

"Hey! You'll offend senpai like that!" Haibara pouted at Kento.

Nanami Kento turned to you with a blank face. "Does it offend you, senpai?"

"Not at all." You grinned at him.

"See, they don't mind."

"Huh!? But I do!" Gojo Satoru retorted back. "You're going, Nanami!"

"I don't wanna."

"No, you're going!"

"Satoru, don't be so loud."

"But Suguboo!"

"I can't believe I'm stuck with all of you." Shoko huffed, cigarette smooke coming out of her mouth.

Despite your earlier reservations, you couldn’t help but feel a warmth spread through you at the thought of all of them wanting to be with you for the New Year. It was going to be a lively celebration, that much was certain. Even after many times you’ve told them to not go, they still told you they were going. And sure enough, it was too cold all the way around.

Nanami sighed, adjusting the scarf around his neck as they neared the temple gates. "This is ridiculous. We could have celebrated in Tokyo."

Haibara, ever the optimist, smiled brightly at his friend. "Don’t worry, Nanami. I’m sure everything will be well. It’s New Year’s day, after all. We should be celebrating together."

As they reached the top of the steps, they were greeted by the sight of Kusakabe and Utahime already there, standing near the entrance of the temple. Iori Utahime was wrapped in a thick coat, her breath visible in the chilly air. Beside her, Kusakabe Atsuya was typing away on his flip phone. When Utahime spotted Satoru, her expression immediately shifted to one of irritation.

"Why are you here, Gojo?" she asked, her voice carrying a mix of suspicion and annoyance.

Satoru grinned at her, his usual carefree attitude on full display. "Because I’m your favorite kouhai, of course!" he replied, his tone teasing as ever. “Aren’t you happy? To be graced by my presence, Utahime?”

Utahime’s eye twitched in irritation, and she started towards him, clearly ready to give him a piece of her mind. But before she could get too close, Kusakabe quickly stepped in, gently pulling her back. Everyone was looking at them but none of that mattered to Gojo Satoru who continued to grin at his elder.

"Utahime, let it go. It’s New Year’s day!" he urged, trying to keep the peace. “Senpai’s also here, we can’t cause headaches for them!”

"But he—!" Utahime began, only to be cut off by Kusakabe, who was already steering her towards the temple entrance, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Satoru just chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction he’d gotten out of her. "She’s so easy to rile up." he said to Suguru, who merely shook his head with a smirk.

Shoko, who had been watching the exchange with a bemused expression, nudged Satoru. "Maybe try not to annoy everyone before the night even begins." she suggested, though there was little bite to her words. “Utahime, don’t mind him.”

"Where’s the fun in that?" Satoru quipped, but he did ease off, his attention shifting to the temple grounds. He leaned towards Shoko. “Heh, love sick.”

Shoko slapped his arm. He flinched and groaned in pain. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You emerged from the temple just as they were finishing up their banter, surprised to see so many familiar faces. "I thought I told you guys not to bother coming all the way out here." you said, though there was no mistaking the warmth in your tone. It was clear you were happy to see them, despite your earlier protests. “It’s very busy here, I didn’t want you guys to suffer waiting.”

Satoru stepped forward, handing you a small package wrapped in festive paper. "No way we were letting you celebrate alone, senpai! Besides, it wouldn’t be a proper New Year without you. Or me. Together.”

“Heh, love sick.” Suguru snickered lowly.

“Shut up!” Satoru slapped his arm.

You accepted the gift with a smile, though your gaze softened at the sight of them all gathered together. "I appreciate it. Truly.”

Nanami, still grumbling under his breath, finally spoke up. "Next year, we’re doing this in Tokyo."

Haibara laughed, patting Nanami on the back. "We’ll see about that, Nanami. For now, let’s just enjoy the night."

As the group made their way inside, the temple's warm glow and the smell of incense welcomed them. The sounds of laughter and conversation filled the air as they prepared to ring in the New Year together. Despite the long journey and the cold, it was clear that none of them would have wanted to be anywhere else.

You ushered everyone inside the temple, the warmth from the lit braziers immediately driving away the chill of the winter night. The monks at the temple were handing out hot drinks to keep warm. Nanami took two, as the others enjoyed one. Satoru thinks that it was sweet plum tea, but it’s not sweet enough for him.

The temple’s interior was adorned with traditional New Year’s decorations—pine branches, plum blossoms, and bamboo, all carefully arranged to welcome the coming year. Gojo Satoru was often here as a child, being a descendant of Hiromi.

He can pinpoint the places he had studied with his Mikoto teachers. But he has never seen it in this way, with all its vibrant decorations. He supposed that he was always celebrating New Years at those boring clan parties.

The air was thick with the fragrant scent of incense, and the sound of gentle chanting echoed softly through the corridors. The bells rang as people prayed in front of the statue of Bishamon. The line was the longest he had ever seen, probably longer than when he buys new Digimon merchandise. But he supposed that it would be the case. The Hiromi Shrine was the most popular of the Bishamon worship shrines in Kyoto, especially because of the performances.

"Make yourselves comfortable." you told them with a smile. "I’ll be back soon. I have to prepare for the dance offering to Bishamon. It’s a tradition I have to lead."

“Heh, you dance, senpai?” Shoko questioned, drinking her plum tea. “Just like Utahime.”

You smiled back at her. “Hm. I’m a priestess in Mikoto shrines also. Bishamon likes being praised, after all. So, it is part of our duty.”

“Your dancing has always been immaculate, senpai.” Utahime cheered as she looked towards you. “Graceful as always.”

“Does this mean you know this?” Suguru turned to Satoru with a curious face. “You have common ancestry with that, don’t you?”

“I was taught, but I wasn’t allowed to perform it.” Satoru retorted back, fixing his glasses. “I’m still a Gojo, you know?”

“I’ll be going now.” You tell them, fixing the pleats on your haori. “I still have to change clothing.”

“Good luck, senpai!” Haibara says, clapping his hands. Nanami mumbled the same but in a lower tone.

You giggled. “You have my thanks. Enjoy the show, okay?”

The group nodded in silent agreement, their eyes following your form as you disappeared deeper into the temple. The faint sound of your footsteps echoed briefly before being swallowed by the hushed serenity of the sacred space. As the heavy wooden doors closed behind you, a soft thud resonated through the air, leaving them standing in the warm, golden glow of the temple's main hall.

The ancient architecture loomed around them, exuding an aura of timelessness and reverence. Flickering candles cast gentle, dancing shadows across the polished floors, while the subtle scent of incense hung in the air, intertwining with the soft murmur of distant prayers. It was a place where the divine felt near, a sanctuary where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the sacred atmosphere to envelop them.

Each of them felt the weight of the temple’s history, the centuries of devotion embedded in its very walls. Here, in this tranquil space, they were reminded of the depth of their connection to you, and the unspoken bond that drew them all together, even in the quietest of moments.

Satoru leaned against a pillar, his eyes following the path you had taken. "This is a big deal." he said, breaking the silence. "The dance offered to Bishamon isn’t just for show. It’s a prayer for protection, strength, and victory in the coming year. As descendants of the Hiromi clan, it has to be taken with care and concentration.”

Shoko, intrigued, glanced at him. "So you know all about this, then? In great detail."

Satoru shrugged, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, I’ve seen it done before, in the Mikoto household. But senpai… they’ve always taken it to another level. They’re the real deal when it comes to this tradition."

Suguru nodded thoughtfully, glancing around at the intricate decorations. "It’s rare to see someone so deeply connected to their heritage like this. It’s impressive."

Nanami, still somewhat grumpy from the trip, nevertheless looked interested. "It must be a lot of pressure, carrying on such an important tradition."

"It is. She’s the only third one to hold Hiromi’s cursed technique. So she’s held in high regard." Satoru agreed, his gaze still fixed on the doors you had disappeared through. "But senpai handles it like it’s nothing. That’s just how they are."

As they talked, the soft sounds of preparations being made drifted through the temple. The atmosphere grew more reverent, the chatter fading into a respectful silence as they waited for the ceremony to begin.

When the doors finally opened again, they all turned to look. You emerged, dressed in the finest Heian-era clothing, each layer of silk and brocade meticulously arranged. The colors were vibrant, yet harmonious, a testament to the skill and care that had gone into the ensemble. Your hair was styled in the traditional manner, adorned with delicate ornaments that caught the light as you moved.

The group fell silent, their eyes drawn to you as you approached the altar. Gojo Satoru felt his breath catch in his throat, completely awe-struck. He had seen you in combat, had witnessed your strength and skill countless times, but this was different. This was a side of you he had never truly seen before—regal, composed, every movement filled with grace and purpose.

As you took your place before the altar, the room seemed to hold its breath. The flickering candlelight reflected off the golden statue of Bishamon, the god of war and warriors, who stood as the protector of the temple. You began to dance, your movements slow and deliberate, each gesture a prayer offered up to the deity.

The bells chimed softly in time with your steps, the melody hauntingly beautiful. The sleeves of your kimono floated gracefully through the air, and the rhythm of your movements told a story of reverence, dedication, and unbroken tradition. Every step, every turn, was imbued with a power that transcended the physical, connecting the past with the present, the divine with the mortal.

Satoru was mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced with an expression of deep respect and admiration. He had always known you were special, but seeing you like this—fully embracing your role as a descendant of the Hiromi clan, leading this sacred ritual with such grace and authority—was something he hadn’t anticipated.

As the dance continued, the room seemed to glow with a warmth that went beyond the physical. It was as if the very spirit of the temple had come alive, watching over the ritual with benevolent eyes. The other sorcerers watched in respectful silence, each of them feeling the weight of the moment, understanding that they were witnessing something truly sacred.

When the dance finally came to an end, you stood before the altar, hands folded in a final gesture of prayer. The room was silent, the only sound was the soft crackling of the braziers. Then, slowly, you turned to face your audience, your expression calm and serene.

The group remained silent, each of them still processing what they had just witnessed. Satoru, however, couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corner of his lips. He had always known you were extraordinary, but tonight, that belief had been solidified in a way he hadn’t expected.

As you stepped down from the altar, Satoru caught your eye, and for a brief moment, there was an understanding between you—something that didn’t need to be spoken. It was in the quiet awe in his gaze, in the way he nodded slightly, acknowledging what you had just done.

"That was… amazing." Shoko finally said, breaking the silence, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

“Right?” Utahime grinned from ear to ear. “Senpai’s been practicing this for months!”

“I always wondered how they have the time to do all this.” Kusakabe whispered under his breath. “That was just….amazing.”

Suguru nodded in agreement, a rare look of respect on his usually calm face. "Yeah. Truly."

Nanami, who had been skeptical about the whole thing, couldn’t help but nod as well. "I can see why this tradition is so important."

Haibara, always the optimist, beamed at you. "You were incredible, senpai!"

You smiled softly, bowing your head in thanks. "Thank you. I’m glad you could all be here to witness it. It means a lot to me."

As the night continued, the group moved on to the other festivities, but Satoru remained quiet, still caught up in the image of you dancing under the temple’s sacred light. He knew he would never forget this New Year, nor the way you had shown them all the true depth of your heritage and strength.

As the night wore on, the temple grounds gradually filled with the sounds of celebration. The solemnity of the ritual had given way to a more festive atmosphere, with laughter and chatter echoing off the ancient stone walls. The group of sorcerers mingled, sharing stories and enjoying the warmth of the small fires that had been lit to stave off the winter chill.

Satoru, however, found himself oddly quiet amidst the festivities. He stood a little apart from the others, his gaze often drifting back to where you were, speaking with Utahime and Kusakabe near the shrine. The image of you during the dance was still fresh in his mind, replaying over and over again like a scene from a film.

He had always admired you—respected you, even. You were his dependable senpai, someone who had taught him much, someone who had always been there. But tonight, something had shifted.

The way you had moved, the way you had commanded the space during the ritual, had revealed a side of you that he hadn’t fully grasped before. It wasn’t just about strength or skill. It was about who you were at your core—a person deeply connected to your heritage, someone who carried the weight of tradition with grace and dignity.

As he watched you now, a realization began to creep up on him, one that he hadn’t seen coming. It wasn’t just admiration he felt. There was something more—something deeper that made his heart beat a little faster, made him more aware of your every movement, every word.

It hit him all at once, like a sudden gust of wind that took his breath away. Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, the one who was always so sure of himself, found himself completely and utterly disarmed by this newfound awareness.

He liked you. A lot. More than he hoped.

The thought was startling, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to do with it. Love wasn’t something he had ever given much thought to—his life was too chaotic, too filled with danger and responsibility. But standing here, watching you laugh with the others, he couldn’t deny it. It was there, unmistakable and undeniable, a feeling that had been building without him even realizing it.

Shoko noticed his distant expression and wandered over, nudging him with her elbow. "You’ve been quiet. What’s going on in that head of yours?"

Satoru blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He glanced at Shoko, then back at you, still trying to process what he had just figured out. "Just… thinking." he said, his voice a little softer than usual.

Shoko raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "That’s a first. What about?"

He hesitated for a moment, then gave a small, almost sheepish smile. "Senpai."

Shoko followed his gaze and immediately understood. Her usual smirk softened into something more genuine. "You’ve got it bad, huh?"

Satoru sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah… I think I do."

Shoko didn’t tease him this time. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully, her gaze lingering on you. "You know, it’s not surprising. They’re… special."

"Yeah." Satoru agreed quietly, his eyes never leaving you. "They really are."

The two of them stood there in silence for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts. Satoru felt a strange mix of emotions—excitement, anxiety, and something he wasn’t quite sure how to name. Love was a powerful thing, and for someone like him, it was both thrilling and terrifying.

But as he watched you smile, saw the way you interacted with the people around you, he knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, whatever he had to face because of this realization, he was ready for it. Because this feeling, this love—he knew it was worth it.

"Guess I’ve got some things to figure out," he muttered, more to himself than to Shoko.

She chuckled softly. "You’ll manage. You always do."

Satoru smiled, feeling a little more grounded. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do about this newfound love, but for now, just knowing it, acknowledging it, was enough. The night was still young, and there was time—time to enjoy this moment, time to figure out what to do next.

As the celebration continued, he allowed himself to relax, to savor the warmth of the fire and the sound of your laughter. There was no rush. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo was content to just be—content to stand by, to watch, and to let his heart lead him wherever it wanted to go.

February 2010

HE HAD NEVER EXPECTED THIS OUT OF HIS LIFE. In the first months after your marriage, Gojo Satoru found himself grappling with a whirlwind of emotions he hadn’t fully anticipated. Marriage, to him, had always been an abstract concept—something distant and almost inconceivable.

After all, he was Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer alive, someone who walked a path few could follow, always teetering on the edge of danger. He had grown accustomed to a life where attachments were fleeting, where relationships were superficial at best, and where he never had to worry about being tied down by anything or anyone.

But now, everything had changed. With a simple gold band on his finger, a tangible symbol of a bond he never thought he’d have, Satoru realized he was in completely unfamiliar territory. The weight of that ring was more than just the metal—it was the responsibility, the commitment, and the vulnerability that came with it.

In those early days, he found himself waking up in the middle of the night, his hand subconsciously reaching out to make sure you were still there, a silent reassurance that this wasn’t just a dream. He’d never been one to fear anything, but the thought of losing you, of this newfound connection slipping through his fingers, sent a chill down his spine. It was a feeling he didn’t quite know how to process—a mixture of fear and protectiveness, of love and uncertainty.

Satoru had always prided himself on being in control, of being able to predict and outmaneuver any threat. But this—this was different. Loving you, being married to you, was something he couldn’t strategize his way through. There were no enemies to defeat, no curses to exorcize, just the simple, profound reality of sharing his life with someone else. And that terrified him more than he cared to admit.

He’d catch himself watching you when you weren’t looking, his gaze softening in a way that was so unlike the confident, cocky sorcerer everyone knew. He marveled at how easily you fit into his life, how you managed to break through the walls he had built up over the years. The way you understood him, the way you didn’t flinch in the face of his power or his occasional bouts of arrogance—it was as if you had always been meant to be there, by his side, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

But with that grounding came a vulnerability that Satoru wasn’t used to. He was no longer just the strongest sorcerer—he was your husband, a role that demanded a different kind of strength, one that he was still learning to wield. The idea of being responsible for someone else’s happiness, of being someone you could rely on, made him question everything he thought he knew about himself. Could he really be the partner you deserved? Could he protect you not just from the dangers of the world, but from his own flaws and insecurities?

These questions haunted him in the quiet moments, when the world slowed down and it was just the two of you. He was used to facing challenges head-on, but this was different. This was about being present, being open, being honest—things that didn’t come naturally to him. And yet, despite the doubts and the fears, there was something about being with you that made him want to try, to be better, to grow into the role he never thought he’d take on.

As the months passed, Satoru began to understand that marriage wasn’t about being perfect, or about having all the answers. It was about the journey you were both on, together, learning and growing with each step.

He realized that it was okay to be unsure, to be afraid, as long as he was willing to face those fears with you by his side. And slowly, he started to let go of the idea that he had to be invincible, that he had to carry the weight of the world on his own. Because now, he had you, and that was a strength unlike anything he had ever known.

He’d never been one to doubt himself, but when it came to you, things were different. There were moments when he would catch himself overthinking, a rarity for him. Did you really want to be married to him, or had circumstances forced your hand? The thought gnawed at him more often than he’d like to admit.

After all, your relationship hadn’t exactly been conventional. You had always been enigmatic, revealing only pieces of yourself when asked, keeping much of your life private. Even when Satoru confessed his feelings, he wasn’t entirely sure how you felt. You accepted his proposal, but he couldn’t shake the lingering suspicion that you might have done so out of obligation or to avoid being entangled with the Zen’in clan—a fate worse than anything he could imagine for you.

There were nights when he would lie awake, staring at the ceiling of your shared room, trying to figure out how to navigate this new reality. He loved you—he knew that much. But he was terrified that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had simply chosen the lesser of two evils, and he was the one left trying to make sense of it all.

Satoru wasn’t used to feeling insecure. He was used to being in control, always confident in his abilities and decisions. But with you, everything was different. You were his equal in so many ways—strong, intelligent, capable—but you were also someone he couldn’t quite read, someone who could keep secrets even from him.

One evening, as you both sat in the quiet of your home, Satoru couldn’t keep it in any longer. You were sipping tea, looking as serene as ever, while he fidgeted with his hands, uncharacteristically restless.

“Can I ask you something?” he began, his voice quieter than usual.

You looked up at him, sensing the shift in his tone. “Of course.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to ask. “When we got married… Did you… I mean, did you want to?”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. “What do you mean?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I just—sometimes I wonder if you did it because you really wanted to or because it was… the better option. Better than being forced into something with the Zen'in clan.”

You set your tea down, regarding him carefully. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his question hanging in the air. Then, you reached out, taking his hand in yours.

“Satoru…..” you began, your voice steady, “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t have the kind of love story that most people dream of. My life was never about fairy tales or perfect endings. And yes, part of me did see our marriage as a way to avoid a fate I didn’t want.” You squeezed his hand, your gaze never leaving his. “But that’s not the only reason I said yes.”

His breath caught as he listened, his eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. “Then what made you say yes, to me being your husband?”

“I said yes because I trust you.” you continued, your voice soft but firm. “I trust you in ways I’ve never trusted anyone before. And… I wanted to see where that could lead. I may not have been in love with you when we first got married, but I knew there was potential for something real between us. Something worth exploring.”

Satoru’s heart swelled at your words, but there was still a part of him that needed to know more. “And now?” he asked quietly. “How do you feel now?”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached your eyes. “Now? I don’t regret it for a second. You’ve become someone I care about deeply, someone I respect and… yes, someone I can truly….deeply love.”

The relief that washed over Satoru was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t realized just how much he had to hear those words until you spoke them. He knew that maybe you felt them, maybe you shared his feelings, his understanding. But to hear them? That’s a whole different thing. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his usual confidence beginning to return.

“Good….good.” he murmured, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. “Because I really, really care deeply for you, and maybe one day…..I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you didn’t feel the same.”

You chuckled softly, resting your head against his chest. “I guess we’re both learning how to navigate this together, aren’t we?”

“Yeah.” he agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But I think we’ll figure it out. After all, we’re together. We can handle anything.”

And in that moment, with you in his arms, Satoru knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, he was ready to face them. Because he wasn’t alone—he had you, and that was more than enough.

epilogue

March 2015

It was one of those rare, peaceful afternoons when everything seemed to align perfectly. The sun was shining, a gentle breeze was blowing, and the Gojo household was uncharacteristically quiet. Well, almost quiet.

Satoru Gojo, the ever-proud husband and now father, was lounging on the couch with a smirk that could light up a room. In front of him stood Megumi and Tsumiki, both of them sporting expressions of mild confusion and curiosity.

Satoru had been waiting for this moment—when the kids would finally ask about the somewhat mysterious nature of his marriage to you. And now, with Satoshi—a tiny bundle of energy strapped to Satoru’s chest in a baby carrier—he was more than ready to provide an answer.

“So, how did you and Gen–san end up married?” Tsumiki asked, her tone innocent but her eyes sharp, clearly expecting an interesting story.

Megumi, ever the skeptic, folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense. You’re you… and they’re… well, them.”

Satoru grinned, patting Satoshi’s back gently as the baby cooed happily in the carrier. “Why, that’s easy! It’s because they love me!”

The room went silent for a moment as Megumi and Tsumiki processed Satoru’s answer. The stillness hung in the air, almost as if time itself had paused. Then, Megumi rolled his eyes in that exasperated way he often did, clearly unimpressed by whatever explanation Satoru had given this time. Tsumiki, on the other hand, couldn’t help but giggle, her laughter light and infectious, breaking the tension with ease.

Little Satoshi, cradled comfortably against Satoru’s chest, joined in with his own soft laughter, the sound a mix of pure joy and innocence. His tiny hands clutched at Satoru’s shirt, his laughter causing his small body to wiggle slightly in his father’s arms.

Satoru blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the chorus of reactions around him. For a brief second, he looked almost confused, as if he hadn’t quite expected that response. But then, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips, softening his usual cocky expression. In that moment, surrounded by the ones he loved, Satoru felt a warmth in his chest that made everything else seem distant and unimportant.

“That can’t be the whole story.” Megumi muttered, clearly unimpressed with Satoru’s self-satisfied grin. “I won’t believe Gen–san falling in love with you like that.”

Tsumiki leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. “Come on, Satoru–san, there has to be more to it than that.”

Satoru chuckled, his trademark grin still plastered on his face. “Well, if you must know, it all started with my irresistible charm. I mean, who wouldn’t fall in love with this face?” He pointed to himself, looking ridiculously smug.

Satoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands, making the whole scenSatoshi, catching on to his father’s infectious good mood, giggled and clapped his tiny hands with pure delight. The sound of his laughter, so innocent and full of life, echoed through the room, adding to the already absurd scene. His bright eyes sparkled as he looked up at Satoru, clearly enjoying the attention and the light-hearted atmosphere.

Satoru’s smile grew wider as he watched his son, the absurdity of the moment not lost on him. The combination of Megumi’s eye roll, Tsumiki’s giggles, and Satoshi’s adorable antics made the whole situation feel almost surreal—like a snapshot of a life he had never imagined for himself, yet couldn’t imagine living without now.e even more absurd. Life was great, he thinks. No matter what happened before.

Megumi groaned, rubbing his temples as if dealing with Satoru was giving him a headache. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you!” Satoru responded cheerfully, clearly missing—or ignoring—the point.

Tsumiki, always the more patient of the two, tried again. “But really, what made you two decide to get married? Was it some big romantic gesture?”

Satoru paused, his grin softening as he thought back to the moments leading up to your marriage. “It wasn’t really like that,’miki.” he said, his tone more genuine now. “It was more… complicated. But in the end, we realized we wanted to be together. And so we made it happen.”

Megumi and Tsumiki exchanged a look, sensing there was more to the story than Satoru was letting on. That doesn’t seem to be how you told the story. You were more straightforward than your husband, but Satoru got the complicated right. Nothing about the story was ever simple. But now that you are here, nearly five years later. What is complicated to a whole lifetime of happiness?

“And then they fell head over heels in love with me!” Satoru added quickly, not wanting to lose the lightheartedness of the moment. “Then bam! You guys came into our lives and made more love grow! Like kabam!”

Tsumiki laughed again, shaking her head. “You’re such a goof, Satoru-san.”

“Maybe I am, ‘miki!” Satoru replied, his grin returning full force. “But I’m their goof, and that’s all that matters.”

Megumi sighed but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess if they can put up with you, that says something.”

Satoru beamed, clearly taking that as a compliment. “Exactly! Now, who wants ice cream? Satoshi here has a craving.”

As if on cue, Satoshi babbled happily, his tiny hands reaching up toward Satoru’s face, his little fingers grasping at the air as he tried to touch his father. Satoru leaned down slightly, letting Satoshi’s hands brush against his cheeks, a soft chuckle escaping his lips at the child’s excitement.

Tsumiki giggled at the sight, her amusement evident. “I think that’s just you, Satoru-san,” she teased, her tone playful.

Satoru shrugged, completely unbothered by the light jab. “Well, Satoshi is my son,” he declared with a grin, gently nuzzling his cheek against Satoshi’s tiny hand. “My little dawn, my copycat! He’s bound to inherit my great taste in sweets!”

His words were met with another round of giggles from Tsumiki, while Satoshi, as if understanding his father’s pride, continued to babble cheerfully, his joy infectious and filling the room with warmth. You finally came around the corner, fully dressed to go out for the day. You grinned at everyone.

“My love! Woah, you look dashingly extraordinarily fantastically—”

“Satoru.” You giggled, looking into his deep cerulean eyes. Full of love, full of wonder— for you. “Your compliments don’t have to be that long, baby.”

“Huh!? But how will the world know how much I love my beloved?”

You smiled, walking over to him. You placed a kiss on Satoshi’s massive cheeks, eliciting him to laugh. Then you looked at your husband and leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. He smiled against your lips, enjoying the touch of your lips against his own. When you parted lips, he looked dazed with love for you.

“New lip gloss?” He asked you, grinning. “It’s more fruity than before.”

“Do you love it?”

He grinned harder. “I do!”

“Ugh, married people.” Megumi gagged, looking at the two of you.

Tsumiki swooned with a smile on her face. “Ah, married people.”

With that, the conversation shifted to plans for an impromptu ice cream outing, and any lingering questions about your marriage to Satoru were put on hold—at least for now. Sweets came first in your family. But as they all headed out the door, there was a sense of contentment in the air, a feeling that whatever the story behind your marriage was, it was something that had brought everyone closer together. And that, in the end, was all that really mattered.

As the four of you headed out to the nearest ice cream shop, the lively chatter filled the air. Satoru, as usual, was at the center of attention, effortlessly juggling his roles as the strongest sorcerer, doting father, and husband with a charm that was uniquely his.

Satoshi, snug in his baby carrier, was babbling away, occasionally pulling at Satoru’s white hair, fascinated by its softness. Tsumiki walked beside them, laughing at Satoshi’s antics, while Megumi trailed slightly behind, trying to mask his amusement with an air of indifference.

Once you reached the shop, Satoru wasted no time in ordering a variety of flavors—far more than anyone could reasonably eat. He carried the overflowing tray of cones and cups to a table outside, grinning as he set it down.

“Alright, everyone, dig in!” he announced, looking far too pleased with himself.

Tsumiki eagerly grabbed a rainbow sprinkle cone, and even Megumi couldn’t resist picking out his favorite flavor, chocolate chip. You grabbed pistachio and your husband Satoru took a seat, carefully adjusting Satoshi in his carrier before picking up his own ice cream. He looked around at his little makeshift family, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and contentment.

As they enjoyed their treat, Tsumiki’s curiosity got the better of her again. “Satoru–san, do you think Satoshi will grow up to be like you?”

Satoru smirked, scooping up a generous amount of ice cream. “Well, he’s got the looks for it, that’s for sure,” he said, tapping Satoshi’s nose with a finger. “But as for the rest, who knows? He’s got plenty of time to figure out what kind of person he wants to be.”

Megumi, ever the realist, chimed in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t inherit your ego.”

Tsumiki tried to stifle her giggle while Satoru feigned offense, dramatically clutching his chest. “My ego? I prefer to think of it as confidence. And besides, who wouldn’t want to be like me? I’m the complete package!”

“Because they love me!” Tsumiki teased, echoing Satoru’s earlier statement with a playful grin.

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. “Exactly! See, Tsumiki gets it.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “You are too much, Satoru.”

“But you love me, don’t you?”

“Fortunately, yes. I do.”

Megumi shook his head, but there was a faint smile on his lips. Despite the banter, it was clear to him how much Satoru cared for you and the life you’d built together. Satoru might joke around, but there was no denying the depth of his feelings, especially when it came to you and Satoshi.

After a while, the conversation turned to other topics—school, upcoming missions, and plans for the weekend. The sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the scene. As they sat there, laughing and talking, it was easy to forget the pressures of their world, if only for a little while.

Finally, when all the ice cream was gone and Satoshi was starting to get sleepy, they decided to head back home. Satoru, now carrying a drowsy Satoshi in his arms, led the way, still chatting animatedly with Tsumiki and Megumi as they walked. Your shopping bags filled one hand and the other, a matcha drink you so adored.

As they neared your home, Megumi suddenly asked, “So, do you think you guys will want more kids?”

You choked on your drink. You coughed. Megumi looked panicked at your state. You haven’t really thought about more kids. Having Megumi, Tsumiki and Satoshi felt more than enough. Tsumiki handed you a wet wipe, worry evident on her face. She took the matcha drink so you could clean yourself.

“You alright, my love?” Satoru asked, fear in his face. “Megumi, get water!”

Megumi nodded as he rushed off. You cleaned your face from the matcha.“I’m…I’m fine. Don’t worry. Just surprised, that's all.”

Megumi finally came back and handed you water. You smiled at him and drank the water slowly. You thanked the boy, patting his head with your free hand. Satoru took a breath of relief and paused, glancing down at the now peacefully sleeping Satoshi, his expression softening.

“We don’t know yet, about more kids. We haven’t thought about it yet.” he said thoughtfully. “If that’s something we both want, then why not? After all, I think we make a pretty good team.”

Tsumiki smiled, nudging Megumi. “I think it would be nice if Satoshi had a little brother or sister to play with.”

Megumi, trying to maintain his usual indifferent facade, just shrugged. “As long as Satoru–san doesn’t try to turn them all into mini versions of himself.”

You smiled. “Another version of me would be a change, don’t you think?”

“Satoru–san would spoil them!” Tsumiki grinned. “I would too!”

Satoru chuckled, shaking his head. “Hey, I wouldn’t dream of them being like me. I don’t want them to be. Everyone’s got to find their own path, right? I just want them to be happy and strong enough to protect what’s important to them.”

He looks at you and grins. “But another version of you I could hold dear and treasure? I would be the happiest man.”

“Simp.” Megumi snickered as you put down the shopping bags.

As they reached the door, Satoru turned to face them, his grin returning. “And what about it? I’m proud of being a loving husband!”

“What Satoru said, that includes you two as well.” You smiled at Megumi and Tsumiki. “You’re all part of this family now, whether you like it or not. Okay?”

Megumi rolled his eyes, but the small smile on his face gave him away. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go getting any more ideas.”

Tsumiki giggled, and Satoru opened the door, ushering them all inside. “No promises!”

The door closed behind them, shutting out the world as the Gojo household settled in for another evening. And as Satoru laid Satoshi down in his crib, watching the tiny baby sleep, he couldn’t help but feel that life, with all its chaos and surprises, had turned out pretty damn good. And he wouldn’t change a thing.

He smiled to himself, knowing that whatever the future held, he was ready to face it with you, Satoshi, and the rest of the family by his side. Because in the end, it wasn’t just about being the strongest—it was about being loved, and loving in return. And that was something even Satoru Gojo knew he couldn’t do alone.

429 notes · View notes

macabrebatz · 11 days ago

Text

O, Christmas Tree

(Art the Clown/Reader)

GIF by junkfoodcinemas

Author’s Note: Me? Writing?? In 2024? Who would’ve ever guessed?

Notes/warnings: Fluff, reader has anxiety about living with Art, set in early December, Christmas fluff but it’s not Christmas yet, canon typical violence is briefly mentioned, gender neutral reader, are they roommates or lovers? that’s up to you

Word count: 1,121

Art had always been a strange individual. But for the past week, his behavior had shifted. He stayed in his workshop and had been adamant about keeping you out. It was a normal occurrence for Art to disappear for hours at a time but locking himself away from you was new. And it was concerning.

It was already a miracle that Art hadn’t killed you the second he met you. It was even more of a miracle that you’ve managed to stay alive and at his side for months now. You were thankful that he seemed to take a fascination towards you but this new behavior made you think that your luck might just be running out.

You made your way out of your home and walked towards the workshop. At one point it was merely a detached garage that you used as a glorified storage unit. But when Art came along you figured you’d let him have the building to work in. You weren’t using it anyway. Now it was his space for making all types of nasty weapons.

“Art?” you called out, knocking on the door of his workshop.

You could hear shuffling in the workshop and then silence. You knocked again, quieter than before.

“I just wanted to check on you,” you said.

There was no response, no shuffling. Nothing.

You sighed, turning away from the door. As you began to walk away there was a tiny creak. You turned to see Art sanding at the door, arms crossed with a blank expression on his painted face.

“Art, are you okay? I feel like these past few weeks you’ve been kind of dis-“

You were abruptly stopped. Art’s finger pressed against your lips as he silently shushed you. His blank expression turned into a smiling grin.

You attempted to speak again, but he pressed his finger a bit harder into your lips.

You took the hint, nodding your head. He took his finger away and then took your hand, leading you back into your living room. He gently pushed you down to the couch and gestured for you to close your eyes, putting his hands up to his own face to demonstrate.

You were hesitant. You weren’t too keen on being surprised by Art, because many of his surprises included the missing limbs of people he had killed. Or purposely scaring you. Although you found yourself caring for the clown, living with him in any capacity often came with daily hazards and the occasional heart palpations.

“Ok,” you said, quietly.

You shut your eyes and felt Art grab your hands and bring them up to your face. Whatever he had in store, he really didn’t want you to see it yet.

You heard him walk away and then you were left with silence. Minutes passed and you were beginning to get worried. You were becoming increasingly anxious and nervous, afraid that this was going to be one of those elaborate moments that he suckers you in just to make you jump out of your skin for his amusement. Or even worse…

No, you didn’t want to think about that. Surely if the clown had intended on killing you he would’ve already done it. Yes, surely that was the case.

Your train of thought was interrupted when you heard the sound of something dragging across the hardwood floor of your home. Your mind went to dark places, assuming the worst.

Art was moving around, you could hear him doing something although you had no clue what.

More time passed and you were starting to get stir crazy. Whatever he was doing, it wasn’t something that was easily prepared. It was taking so long that you had the urge to whine. The temptation to peek was growing stronger by the minute but you knew better than to look.

“Art, what’s going on?”

You could hear what sounded like metal clanking together and something being stacked. Honestly, you weren’t sure.

Your arms were becoming sore from being in the same position for so long. You could only hope that the wait was going to be worth it.

It had been easily thirty minutes into waiting and you heard the sound of Art walking closer to you. You jumped at the sudden feeling of his hands on yours. He was behind the couch you sat on, his chin rested gently on the top of your head. He slowly moved your hands away from your face. You hesitantly opened your eyes and gasped. One of your hands covered your mouth in disbelief.

In the corner of your living room sat a rather tall black Christmas tree. It was wrapped in sparkly white garland and red ornaments were littered across the branches. Soft white lights were stretching around it, twinkling and illuminating the area. All of that waiting was because Art had been decorating the tree. The sound of metal you heard must’ve been him putting the tree in its stand. And the stacking noises? That could probably be explained by the red and black Christmas presents stacked under the tree.

“Oh my gosh,“ you said, standing up from your spot on the couch.

You couldn’t help but want to take a closer look. It was truly a beautiful sight to behold.

“You got a Christmas tree? For me?” you asked.

You turned around and another gasp escaped your lips. Art was dressed head to toe in a Santa Claus costume, white hair and all. You had never seen him in anything else other than his clown suit. If he wasn’t in his black and white suit, he would just be naked.

“Art, I don’t know what to say. This is so…sweet,” you said as you walked over to him.

He waved his hand, pretending to make a bashful gesture. It was almost like he was saying, “Oh, this? It’s not that big of a deal.”

But it was to you. Sure, sometimes it felt like you had to walk on eggshells around him. That just came with the territory of being around a murderous clown. But no one had done anything this sweet for you in a very long time.

“Thank you, Art.”

You kissed his cheek and he smiled with a big, toothy grin.

“I like this, by the way,” you said, running your hand over the trim of his Santa jacket. He wiggled his eyebrows up and down and you giggled.

“By the way, as much as I love this gesture…I sincerely hope there are not any body parts in any of those presents.”

He made another face, almost gleeful.

You could swear you could hear him in your thoughts saying, “You’ll just have to wait to find out.”

#horror #slashers #horror movie slashers #fanfiction #art the clown #slashers x reader #horror fandom #slashers x y/n #art the clown x y/n #art the clown x reader #art the clown x you #art the clown fluff #one shot #fluff

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soulshaped · 8 months ago

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in moments | spencer reid x reader

a/n: little thing i wrote today maybe intended for longer series, not super edited (sorry hehe). trying to get back into the habit of writing with this new side blog. send me any requests if you'd like <3

wc: 1.9k

warnings: fem reader, use of she/her pronouns (reader), shy!reader, early seasons shy spencer, just pure fluff (for now)

There wasn’t a shadow of a doubt in anyone’s mind that the BAU changed when you and Spencer seemingly arrived at their doorstep out of nowhere – both of you young and bright-eyed, but an undeniable force together, a wealth of intelligence. But sometimes – especially in moments like this – the team wondered how either of you managed to function in society up until now. Everyone is watching curiously, trying and failing to hide their amused smiles behind their coffee cups.

You’re nervous. They see it in the way you fiddle with the hem of your sweater behind your back, the way you squeak out your words like you’re afraid of them. If anxiety were personified, it’d look incredibly reminiscent of you. Spencer isn’t any better. From the base of his neck to the tips of his ears, every inch of exposed skin is visibly tinted with a cherry-red hue, and his eyes continue to fixate on everything, everywhere except your face.

“How are they even getting anything done right now? They look like they’re both about to throw up,” Emily mutters.

Morgan nods, “My money is on both of them having nervous breakdowns in the next ten minutes.”

Penelope tries her very best to swallow her laugh, but her efforts prove to be futile as a giggle manages to escape from her lips anyway. She quickly coughs and covers her mouth with her fingertips in an attempt to stifle it, but to no avail. Both you and Spencer hear it and glance over with adorably similar facial expressions, brows tightly knitted together and a hint of a pout gracing your lips.

When you’re only met with silence, you tilt your head questioningly.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing! How is it going over there? Did you guys find anything?”

“Yeah, actually. Spencer thinks that the Unsub’s location can be narrowed down to these specific neighborhoods given the pattern of…” As you turn to look at Spencer, you realize you’ve made the greatest mistake in your life. It’s as if every possible nerve ending you have in your body surges with electrical current, and you swear you can feel your heart pumping from the middle of your throat. His eyes meet yours, and he’s closer to you than you remember. Was he here the whole time? You have the sudden urge to crawl under the desk and stay there for as long as you can get away with it.

Do his lips always look like this? Has his hair grown out since yesterday? Is he furrowing his brows?

You realize that you haven’t spoken in what must be at least thirty seconds. Spencer would know how long. You feel even worse.

“Given the patterns in where the victims were found.” you finish quietly.

Spencer swivels his chair to face the team and continues with his explanation, but you can barely hear him as all of your thoughts focus on the fact that his leg is now pressed up against yours. You’ve come to the natural conclusion that your brain is no longer functional anymore, your career is over. Maybe if you beg on your knees, Hotch will let you take a sick day?

“Alright, let’s send smaller teams out and cover all possible locations, see what we can find,” Hotch announces from behind you. As he begins assigning pairs, you breathe out a sigh of relief. Now, you’ll have at least a few hours before you have to face Spencer again, and hopefully, by that point, all of the residual awkwardness of your stumble will be completely obliterated from everyone’s memory.

“And (Y/N) and Reid, you’ll take the last of the locations. Let’s debrief here once we’re done.”

As you stare at Hotch in disbelief, you swear there’s a very, very faint hint of a smile on his face.

You’re going to kill him.

~*~*~

Spencer reads through the case file for the millionth time since getting in the car with you. There’s really no point to it; you and everyone else knows he has an eidetic memory, he only had to read it once. If you asked, he’d lie and tell you he does it to pass the time or to just fill the silence with the sound of pages turning. But he thinks he really does it so that he doesn’t have to hear himself stumble over his words trying to talk to you.

It’s torture, being around you. You’re pretty and smart and nice and so wonderful, and if he thinks about it for too long, it hurts his head. Spencer wants to be around you all of the time and simultaneously none of the time – it’s an unsolvable equation, and he hates it. It’s torturous.

Even so, he knows his best days are always spent with you.

Most of your shared time is inevitably spent dissecting the neverending influx of cases received by the BAU. But every once in a while, there are times scattered between the chaos. Sometimes it’s the early mornings before anyone else has arrived, and the both of you drink your coffees together in comfortable silence. Sometimes it’s the late nights spent sitting at your desks across from each other with hot takeout and tired eyes. In these moments, both of you can talk about the books you’ve been reading recently, the best classical music composers, or your favorite episodes of Doctor Who, without any hesitation or uncertainty. Perhaps the delirium of sleep deprivation gives you courage, or maybe it’s just that both of you feel safer in the quiet, when the world feels a lot less overwhelming and all of your focus can be devoted to one another. Regardless, it’s what Spencer looks forward to the most, above all else.

So, he tries.

He clears his throat, “D-Did you know that Carlo Lorenzini, the guy that wrote Pinocchio, was said to be obsessed with the human nose?”

“Really? Huh… I wonder what the origin of the obsession was, y’know where it came from.”

And for just an instant, the anxiety has subsided, quickly replaced by a much stronger, fluttering from the depths of his stomach.

“Not sure, but sources say that he frequently wrote about noses in his earlier stories, so whatever the cause was must’ve been prior to the 1880s, when Pinocchio was published.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “Have you heard about the Pinocchio Paradox before?”

“The one created by Peter Eldridge-Smith’s daughter?”

“Yeah, I think her name was Veronique. What do you think of the possible solutions?”

While he thinks of an answer to your question, he also thinks about how seamlessly you manage to fit into the fragments of his mind. He’s never felt more seen than when you glance over at him, when you think he can’t see you. You’re perfect in a way that feels whole and complete to him, as if there’s nothing else he could ever want or need. He thinks about all of this, and much, much more.

~*~*~

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” Spencer asks. He begins to rise from his seat, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

“Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll come with you though, I think I need a break anyway.”

It’s late, everyone else has gone home. All of the fluorescent, overhead lights in the bullpen are off, both of you opting to turn on a few of the surrounding desk lamps instead.

You don’t particularly like the dark, especially when it’s this late into the night. The walk to the kitchen feels a lot longer this way, your path being guided only by the residual light coming from the streetlights outside.

There’s a sudden crash to your left, and you yelp, jumping towards Spencer.

“Sorry! Sorry, that was me. I accidentally kicked a box of files I guess someone left on the floor, it knocked into one of the desks.”

“No worries! It’s okay. I’m just,” you sigh, “I’m just a little bit afraid of the dark.”

As your adrenaline levels steadily return to baseline, you’re suddenly hyper aware of how your entire body is quite literally pressed up against Spencer’s side, your hands gripping onto his forearm for dear life. But just as you start to loosen your death grip, you feel Spencer’s fingers searching for you in the dim moonlight.

Every thought you’ve ever had, every bit of information you’ve ever learned escapes you in a single breath as he intertwines your fingers with his.

His voice is just barely above a whisper, “I’m a little bit afraid of the dark too.”

Both of you walk the rest of the way to the kitchen in complete silence and at an incredibly slow pace, as if even the sound of your soles against the linoleum floors would ruin this moment. You almost want to keep the abrasive lights of the kitchen off as you finally walk through the doorway with Spencer in tow; you know that the very second you flip the switch, you’ll have to let go of his hand. It’s not realistic for him to keep holding your hand, you chastise yourself. How would he even make his coffee if you’re holding his hand hostage?

You turn the light on. The alternative would be standing in the dark and you couldn’t think of a reasonable excuse for doing so quickly enough.

A beat passes, your eyes adjust to the sudden change in brightness. You look down, and to your surprise, Spencer’s still holding onto your hand. Worse, he’s rubbing slow circles into the back of your hand with his thumb. I will never recover from this, you think.

“D-Do you still want coffee?”

“No, not really,” you respond. With how your heart feels like it might burst out of your chest, you really don’t think it’d be a good idea for you to consume any more caffeine.

“Me neither,” he trails off. His eyes are glued to the floor as if he’s afraid to meet your gaze, as if it’ll make you realize with sudden clarity that it’s his hand you’re holding and you’ll pull away.

“As you become drowsier, adenosine accumulates in the neuronal synapse and binds to the respective receptors located in the synapse of specific central nervous systems neurons causing further drowsiness,” you ramble.

“And caffeine is an adenosine receptor antagonist.”

“Exactly, and knockout mice studies reveal that it’s specifically the adenosine A2A receptor which is a member of the G-protein coupled receptor family.”

“Interesting. Even though you only have one PhD, having it in biology seems to be proving pretty useful,” he smiles.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s gotten me this far, wait what do you mean only one?”

“Dr. (Y/L/N), you realize I have three, right?”

“Dr. Reid, please shut up.”

You make him feel safe.

“Okay, sorry,” he giggles, “Can you please tell me more about caffeine?”

And because he asked so nicely, because he smiles at you the way he does, you tell him more. It’s nearly the middle of the night, but you’d still stay up and you would tell him everything you know, as long as he continued looking at you with his soft, brown eyes.

You both talk about everything and anything either of you think of, all while holding each other in the palm of your hands.

The next morning, he sits even closer to you. Luckily, it’s slowly getting easier to talk to him without losing the ability to form coherent thoughts, but it’s still hard sometimes. You still get nervous when he looks at you. You can still feel the butterflies flapping against the walls of your stomach, especially when he holds your hand underneath the desk.

Both of you think you’re being subtle, but everyone notices. They pretend they don’t.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #criminal minds imagine #bau team

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

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UNDER THE MOONLIGHT | CHOI SEUNGCHEOL

summary | what can be better than a night stroll with Seungcheol and your daughter Kkuma

genre | fluff

word count | 1.5k

pairing | choi seungcheol x gn!reader

author’s note | someone please give me a choi seungcheol 🫶🏼

With a sigh you flip the page of your textbook, not even bothering to understand what you have been reading. It has been at least three hours of you sitting in the same position, but your brain stopped comprehending anything at least half an hour ago.

The exam season is just around the corner, but you have never felt less motivated and not only to study - to do anything. Even watching TV felt too tiresome. The fact that your sleeping schedule was shit and you didn’t even bother to make dinner, certainly wasn’t helping.

“I fucking hate this.” you muttered under your breath, flipping the page once again.

“What was that?” asked Seungcheol, who just came into your shared office. Behind him you saw a small, white fluffball that was happily following him.

You didn’t even have to say anything, Seungcheol could clearly see how tired you were and not only physically, but mentally.

The only time he has seen you these past two following weeks were when you came from the library basically at night and during the mornings, when you had to rush out to attend your classes.

He absolutely hated seeing you like this, drained from any happiness and energy, to the point where you couldn't even stand up without tumbling a bit. Seungcheol would do anything just so he could see your bright smile again, but he felt helpless.

Not knowing what to do, he came up behind you and put his arms around your shoulders, squeezing you lightly.

Surrounded by his warmth and comforting scent, you felt like you could start crying any second, so you simply put your cheek to his, to be closer to your love. He responded by hugging you even more tightly, which you didn’t mind at all. It felt like you were wrapped in a warm blanket with all your favorite sweets.

“You know,” he said softly, while tilting your chin in his direction. “I’ll always be there for you and I’m already so proud of you,” he looked deep into your eyes. “But you need to take care of yourself. It is killing me love, seeing you like this.”

You sighed for the hundredth time today, stroking his arm that was still securely wrapped around you.

“I know, but I really need to study for this. I can’t give up now.”

“I’m not telling you to give up, but you still need to take care of yourself. You haven’t eaten even one of my dinners I made for you.” He looked at you with so much care and worry at the same time.

“I’m so sorry Cheol,” you pouted, pecking his jaw.

“There is nothing to be sorry for love, but this doesn’t mean I’m going to let you study yourself to death. You’re going to take a break. Right now.”

„But,” you were interrupted, by his soft lips on yours. You didn’t even have the energy to fight him, so you simply let yourself enjoy this moment.

One hand on your cheek and the other in your hair, you leaned against him to deepen the kiss. It felt like an eternity since you’ve been this close and this reminded you just how safe and protected you felt whenever you were with Seungcheol.

“I love you,” he said, while repeatedly placing featherlight kisses on your lips, almost as if he was afraid to hurt you.

“I love you too, Cheol.” you said, burying your head in his neck and placing kisses there too.

Almost as if she also knew that you needed comfort, Kkuma, who was still laying beside you two, started to nudge her head against your leg.

“See, we’re both worried for you,” Seungcheol chuckled and picked her up, just to place her in your lap. She was always able to put a smile on your face and calm your anxiety down.

Patting her head with one hand, you grabbed Seungcheol’s hand with your other, finally not feeling as miserable as before.

You couldn’t see this, because you were so focused on Kkuma, but your boyfriend had the softest smile ever, looking at you like you were his entire world.

Pecking your temple twice, he gave your hand a little tug to get you up from the chair you’ve been sitting in for the past hours.

“Let’s go out. We can take Kkuma on a walk,” he said, dragging you out of the office.

“But it’s so late and you have a schedule early tomorrow,” you complained, worried about your boyfriend, who probably once again will get no sleep.

“Oh, so now you know how I’ve been feeling these past weeks. Suck it up love, we’re going out,” he said strictly and handed you his hoodie.

“It’s probably cold now,” he muttered to himself and grabbed one of his jackets for you.

“We’re not living at the North Pole, I think you can chill with all of those clothes,” you laughed, but still put on everything he gave you.

“Wha-, oh so now you’re going to complain that I want to take care of you? Do as you wish, go ahead, but don’t complain if you get cold. You can even go with no clothes on, if you dislike mine so much. No problem for me.”

“Cheol, stop sulking so much baby. I was only joking,” you laughed even more, not being able to resist your adorable boyfriend.

“Well, it wasn’t funny,” he still sulked, while putting on his shoes angrily.

Knowing what makes him always melt, you came up behind him and wrapped your hands around his middle.

“I’m sorry. Forgive me please?”

“I don’t know, you were being really mean,” he said. “I think I can forgive you if you,” he pointed to his pursed lips.

Shaking your head at your boyfriend's antics you gave him a quick peck and grabbed Kkuma’s collar.

“Hey, I wanted a proper kiss,” he said surprised.

“Well, you didn’t specify what exactly you wanted, so,” you chuckled.

“I hate you.”

“I think you said something about loving me just like what, five minutes ago?”

“Sometimes I really want to strangle you, you’re unbelievable love.”

“Save that for another time Cheollie, let’s go.”

The moment you stepped out of your apartment doors, you silently thanked Seungcheol for all those clothes, because it really was cold.

“So, where do my girls want to go?” he asked and laced your hands together. “Han River?” “Ah, you know us so well,” you smiled and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s go then.”

As the sun set and darkness descended, the city transformed into a mesmerizing tapestry of light and shadows.

The first thing that caught your eye was the radiant glow emanating from towering skyscrapers, their windows transformed into a symphony of twinkling lights. The air carried the scent of street food wafting from food carts, which only makes you crave something to eat.

“What do you say about Tteokbokki?” you asked and looked at your boyfriend.

“Ah, you’re reading my mind.” he smiled at you.

Giving you Kkuma’s leash, he walked away to get you both food, and you took this opportunity to take a look around you.

As you looked upward, the night sky became a canvas adorned with stars and a few scattered clouds. The street lamps cast pools of warm, golden light upon the pavement below. The comforting silence is broken only by the occasional hushed footsteps and the distant hum of passing cars. The absence of the daytime chaos allows the sounds of the night to come alive.

“Here you go love,” suddenly Seungcheol breaks you out of your thoughts. You take the food from him and hand him Kkuma’s leash back.

You continue your walk in a comforting silence, munching on your food and smiling at Kkuma from time to time.

The presence of Seungcheol and Kkuma envelopes you in a sense of security, peace, and reassurance and you could almost see all your anxiety and worries disappear.

Finally, arriving at the Han River, you take a seat at one of the benches, your hand still in Seungcheol’s.

“Thank you. I really needed this,” you said, putting your head on his shoulder.

In moments like these, time seems to stand still, as the world fades into the background and almost as if only the two of you existed in this universe. It fills you with a deep sense of gratitude and a reminder of the incredible power of love.

Not saying anything, Seungcheol leans in and places a kiss on your lips.

As your lips meet, there's a delicate meeting of warmth and softness. The kiss is gentle, yet purposeful, carrying an abundance of emotions you can’t express through words.

There's a softness in the way his lips move against yours, as if he’s savoring every second, cherishing the connection that exists between you.

The kiss is unhurried, as if it holds a secret desire to make the moment stretch on forever.

As the kiss lingers and finally comes to an end, there's a soft parting of your lips, a bittersweet separation that carries the promise of so much more to come.

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thewickedjazzy · 3 months ago

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Could u do dazai x reader with ocd?

Featuring: Osamu Dazai x gn! ocd reader

Content: sfw, fluff, slightly angst, mention of some swearing words, I believe that's it?,

Author's note: hiiii anon, so sorry for the late response, I swear I was working on it since I received it. I'm also working on all of yall's requests - I'm not sure if you wanted a fic, drabble, or headcanon so I just did a rock paper scissors.

Word count: 1k

❥ Dazai is a smartass, quick witted even, and don't forget that he works at the agency as a detective so of course he will quickly notice how you constantly worry about things going wrong—whether it’s leaving your water bottle uncapped or making a mistake at work. He sees you zoning out at the office, caught in a loop of anxious thoughts, and quickly deduces that it’s more than just everyday stress.

❥ At first, before really getting to know you, he was just a quiet observer. But he never judged, not even once. He’s got his own mental shit to deal with, so he knows how fucked up minds can be. He’d make mental notes of your quirks, just in case he needed to handle them during a mission or whatever.

❥ As he gets to know you better, he figures out how sweet and lovely you are—unlike the twisted side of your mind. It’s like an addiction for him; he craves that balance. He enjoys being friends with someone who has their own dark side, just like he does. Maybe you’ll understand where he's coming from, push him to be a better version of himself.

❥ It’s only after your relationship becomes official that he feels entitled to meddle in your problems. He believes that getting involved in such matters is only appropriate once there’s a solid, established connection between you. Until then, he's just an observer.

❥ You were the one who approached him first, explaining that you have OCD. You felt more anxious than you’d anticipated, having considered telling him many times before but never managing to do so because your mind held you back. He remained calm, and it was only when he revealed that he had known all along that you felt embarrassed. In his typically laid-back manner, Dazai might say, “Oh, I’ve known about your OCD for a while now. You don’t need to be embarrassed—it's actually quite endearing. It doesn’t change a thing between us. We’ll work through it together, and honestly, it’s no big deal.”

❥ One day, while on a mission with him and Atsushi, you were deeply focused on analyzing the crime scene. You managed to uncover evidence that even Dazai had missed, piecing together how the victim was killed with remarkable accuracy.

❥ Needless to say that dazai was surprised by how quickly you cracked the complex case. Even after the murderer was arrested, you continued to ramble about additional details, anxiously checking the file in your hand and worrying about missing something, though there was nothing left to find. Eventually he stopped you, gently holding both your wrists. As you looked up, apologising profusely, he simply shushed you, saying, "It's fine. The case is solved, and we’ve caught the murderer."

❥ Atsushi the poor kid he is watched the exchange between you and Dazai with curiosity. When you reluctantly handed him the file with a nod, Atsushi leaned in and whispered to Dazai, asking if you were alright. Dazai simply smiled and replied, "They're just the perfect detective, doing their job flawlessly."

❥ Dazai is surprisingly attentive to your needs when it comes to your OCD. If you’re stuck in a loop of checking something multiple times, he’ll gently steer you away from it by engaging you in conversation or distracting you with a task. He might even playfully mock himself to make you laugh, using humor to ease your anxiety. “Looks like I’ve accidentally left my keys at home for the fifth time this week. Isn’t that a catastrophe?”

❥ If you’re particularly anxious about a big case or an important event, Dazai might surprise you with a comforting gesture. He could leave little notes or small tokens of reassurance in places you’d find them, like a hidden message in your desk drawer or a comforting snack in your bag.

❥ When you’re feeling overwhelmed, Dazai has a knack for knowing when you need space and when you need company. He might give you space to deal with your thoughts but always makes sure you’re not alone. He could show up with your favorite coffee or a calming playlist, knowing just when to intervene.

❥ Dazai might not always express it directly, but he has a deep understanding of how your OCD affects you and often subtly adapts his behavior to support you. He might avoid making sudden movements or loud noises if he knows it could trigger your anxiety. His sensitivity to your needs shows how much he cares.

❥ Dazai would likely offer reassurances in his own, less conventional way. Dazai might not be that sentimental boyfriend but he makes casual but heartfelt statements that affirm his love, such as “You’re the only one who can put up with my nonsense,” or “I can truly be myself with you, without a second thought.”

❥ Dazai would be more mindful of his humor, staying away from jokes or comments that might trigger your OCD. He might use humor in a way that’s supportive and aligns with your sense of comfort rather than distress.

❥ If someone makes fun of you, Dazai would likely handle it with a blend of nonchalance and protective instinct. He might casually brush off the mockery with a witty comment, like, “Oh, they’re just jealous of your intellect,” showing his confidence in you. If needed, he would also step in to defend you.

➵Want more of Osamu Dazai ?

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toastnpretzels · 9 months ago

Text

home

relationships: crosshair x reader

masterlist

word count: 733

warnings: angsty, fluff, there's an unexplained relationship between the reader and crosshair, kinda left it up to interpretation whether you think they were together before or if it was just them having feelings for each other.

season 3 episode 4 spoilers

author's note: i have not posted a fic in so long. ive been so busy but that doesnt matter. the new episode had me feeling some type of way so here you go. its kinda short but i didnt want to expand without seeing hunter and wrecker's reaction to crosshair being back.

thank you for any support whether its likes, reblogs, or comments <3

“I had help.”

The last few months had been terrible. From losing Tech and then losing Omega to the empire. Spending everyday looking for her with no success. Nothing was ok. All of us were miserable. Our family was being torn apart and there was nothing we could do about it. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Getting the comm from Omega was one of the best things to ever happen to us, but seeing her running down from the ship was even better. Embracing her, knowing she was safe, felt better than anything had. Things were starting to feel right again. All it took was one hug from Omega.

But then he walked off the cargo ship and everything in my body froze. He looked so different. He had been gone for so long that I thought the feelings had disappeared. Seeing him there, I knew they never were.

I forgot what it was like to be near him. I forgot how my heart sped up and how my head felt dizzy. I forgot how he smelled and how warm he was. I forgot how much I loved him.

After Kaller, nothing was ever the same. He wasn’t the same. The chip had changed him. The Empire had changed him.

He let us go on Kamino. The same day you had told him you loved him. On the platform before we left, with tears in my eyes. I told him I loved him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Crosshair, please,” you whispered. He could hear the way your voice was breaking. You couldn’t lose him again.

When he didn’t say anything, you turned to walk away. Typical Crosshair to not say anything. He grabbed your wrist as you started walking.

“I love you.”

You stared at him. Your tears threatened to spill out from his confession.

“But I can’t come with you. You deserve better. This is where I want to be. With the Empire.”

I should have dragged him to the ship. I should have done more. But what more could you do when he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with the Empire.

Why couldn’t he have just came with you that day?

No one moved. Everyone was just as shocked to see him. No one knew what he was going to do, how he was going to react. He had tried to kill us before, but he had also let us go. No one trusted him anymore. You chose to remember how he had let us go.

You were the first one to move. Slowly, I stepped out from behind Wrecker. Every step I took towards him was filled with anxiety. It had been too long.

He doesn’t want to see me.

Is he still him?

Why did he come then?

Why would he still be here if he didn’t want to be?

You stopped a few feet in front of him. I could see how tired he looked from where I was standing. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It hurt so much. He had been through so much since Kamino.

What did they do to him?

I couldn’t stand there anymore. I ran the few feet that were left in between us. I wasn’t sure if he would push me away. As I got close to him, I fell right into his arms. I didn’t realize just how much I had missed him until this moment. He wrapped his arms around me in the tightest embrace I’ve ever had. It had been too long since I had felt him. He was safe. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes, so quietly that you barely heard it.

I looked up at him. He had tears that were threatening to spill over. Your heart broke at the look on his face.

“Shh. Not now. Just let me hold you.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity just holding each other. Quiet tears were spiling from both of your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. His arms tightened around you again, as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It would be hard to forgive. Hard for everyone, not just you. So much had happened. But for now, all that mattered was that him and Omega were safe. Omega was home. Crosshair was home.

“I love you too.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #the clone wars imagine #star wars imagine #clone force 99 #clone x reader #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch imagine #star wars the bad batch

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kennastromboli · 5 months ago

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i'm right here, baby - c.s

in which ~ harper attempts to end her life and chris saves her before it's too late (happy ending!)

warnings ~ self harm, ed, death threats, mentions of death, hospitals, needles, anxiety, (whatever triggers)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

chris was never a boyfriend who ignored your own thoughts and feelings, instead he'd think your own was better than his.

for example, he said he wanted to have a steak dinner, but that didn't strike your fancy, so he told nick to turn the grill off and save the steak for later.

or, when he didn't want taylor swift but remembered you're a huge fan, so he told matt to turn on "long live"

but today, you thought of the worst.

what if, he was only doing this to make you happy?

no, thats stupid.

scrolling on the comments of your latest instagram post of you and the triplets at the beach, your heart dropped, all filled with "kill yourself ugly bitch" or "i can see your bones"

you've had major body issues since that one kid on playground said you looked like santa claus at 8 years old, after suffering an eating disorder your freshmen year, and the aftermath, familes telling you to gain weight, you did, but they still told you to.

a few days later, the death threats keep on getting worse, you told chris that you could ignore it, but really, you were refusing help, which lead you to sitting on the ledge of the bathtub, looking at your prescripted meds for depression.

you open the orange capsule, looking at the blue 200 mg tablets, wondering,

is it worth it? really?

without heasiation, you consume all of them, at first, you felt fine and stood up,

then blacked out.

chris found your unconscious body and started sobbing, screaming for matt and nick, the hurt in his voice was unbearable, all of their voices at that moment were unbearable.

nick struggles to call the ambulance as he's shaking, matt helps him as chris looks at the orange bottle, with nothing in it now.

the paramedics rush in, taking you away, all three of them quickly follow.

you were rushed in as the doctors hook up the machines, chris couldn't even bare to see his girl like this, thinking of the worst.

the doctors don't know if you're going to make it, by all the pills you've took.

chris cries as the doctors try to console him, he doesn't want to lose his girlfriend, he really doesn't.

the doctors say that they can do life shock to see if you'd wake up.

chris nods, his vision blurry from his tears.

the doctor preforms life shock as chris holds your hand

"c'mon harper..." he mumbles

the room went silent, thinkng you didn't make it

suddenly, your eyes flutter open, IV's in both arms, vitals, heart monitor, breathing tube, what the hell happened?

chris smiles widely as he kisses your head, "baby,"

you regain consciousness, "where, where am i?"

chris takes a deep breath, "you almost died."

hearing that makes your heart drop,

"you scared us baby, i thought you were going to die in front of me."

no words said by you, you move over so he can sit on the bed, you pat a spot for him, and he sits there, carefully wrapping you in his embrace

"i'm sorry.." you choke out

"no no no, don't be sorry, you should've told me sooner though,"

he sighs

"and always remember,"

he leans in and whispers,

"i'm right here baby."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

a/n: tysm for reading! i upload fluff for fun, and i'm planning on making a couple of oneshots.

kiss kiss, makenna

tags!

@24kmar @cherib3lla @bratzforchris

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #happy ending

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mother-above · 6 months ago

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The Golden Warrior | Chapter 11

Azriel x Reader

Summary: To you, love was a poison that slowly killed. It was something that could make the strongest of warriors and leaders weak and vulnerable. You had successfully evaded romance and relationships for a century until the day you realized it had been plaguing you from within.

Chapters: 11/?

Warnings: 18+, fluff, and suggestiveness

*masterlist*

That fluttering feeling in your stomach was unnerving. It happened whenever Azriel was near you. You’d managed to avoid actively garnering interest in anyone for decades, and you’d forgotten what it was like to feel butterflies in your stomach. After a couple of days of contemplation, you determined that whatever you felt for Azriel was better than having feelings for Tarquin. You rationalized that having feelings for Azriel wasn’t the end of the world, he was a good friend who was there when you needed him. You were sure anything you felt for Azriel would die off since you were friends, nothing more.

Confusing feelings aside, you were thankful for Azriel for never mentioning your conversation by the river. He saw what you felt was bothering you, so he shut his mouth and gave you some distance. While slightly upsetting, avoiding the topic was a gift, it gave you the chance to pretend you never admitted your fondness for the Illyrian.

At first, Azriel was nowhere to be found and then he was suddenly everywhere. It didn’t help that you were now hyper-aware of him whenever he was in the room. You would be on the training ring with Cassian and Nesta and all of a sudden, Azriel was there needing to speak with Cassian or doing some combat training. It took incredible willpower to ensure your eyes don't wander off to Azriel’s sweaty and muscular form. You’d walk into the kitchen looking for a snack and Azriel would already be there making something for himself. You’d sit with your coffee and try to lose yourself in a book, when you looked up, he was gone but a plate of what he made was placed near you.

The two of you barely talked, the only words you spoke to each other were greetings and goodbyes but Azriel’s gaze was heavy. You felt this cool caress whenever he spotted you, this always threatened to make your cheeks turn red because you had no idea what Azriel was thinking.

On the other hand, Azriel oscillated from pure joy to deprecating anxiety multiple times a day. When you told him that you liked him, he almost shot up into the air in glee but then he remembered his sobering reality. You still didn’t want a mate and you looked like you were about to hurl after your admission. This was not what Azriel fantasized, he imagined the minute you realize your feelings for him, you would jump into his arms and he’d declare his feelings for you.

In the few weeks, you spent in the Night Court, you had regained your usual weight and your muscles were more toned instead of sinewy. That golden glow had yet to make an appearance but it was miles better from when you first arrived.

He was giving you space but he couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted to talk to you and be near you. Nesta told him that you had asked Cassian to train together and Azriel burned in jealousy. There was no reason for him to feel like that but he hated the idea of another male coming into close contact with you, even if it was his mated brother. So every time you trained, Azriel was there too, keeping a close eye and making sure Cassian wasn’t pushing you too far.

You were fighting well for someone who was recently injured, Cassian was so impressed that he didn’t have to hold back. With Feyre and Nesta, he had to be mindful not to go too hard but with you, he was having fun and used you for a proper workout. The two of you were practicing hand-to-hand combat and you were destroying him, raining down punches and kicks in a flurry. Cassian gleamed with sweat and he could barely breathe but that didn’t stop the competitiveness, when you met his eye with a cocky smirk, Cassian launched an attack.

At first, you were able to defend but Cassian was determined to beat you this time. He was throwing everything at you, and finally, with a disorienting punch, you were thrown off before a hard kick to your chest sent you flying. You land on your back with a thud and it takes a second for you to catch your breath. You see a grinning Cassian approaching you on your peripheral only to see Azriel’s towering form take over your vision.

He kneels and gingerly helps you sit up. “Are you okay?”

Your head was swimming but you weren’t mad, instead you started laughing. It’s been a while since anyone has knocked you down while sparring.

You stabilized yourself in his arms. “I’m fine! Cass and I just got away with the training.” Laughter halted when you saw Azriel’s grim face, his lips pressed into a thin line.

He gave Cassian a withering glare and the usually tough General wished he could disappear into the shadows.

“What the hel were you thinking, Cas?” said Azriel as he thoroughly looked you over. “From now on, I’ll spar with you.”

Your jaw went slack before gaining control of your body. “Oh– there’s no need. I’m fine with Cassian. He’s the general and I wouldn’t want to impose on your du-”

“It’s fine!” chirped Cassian. He should have expected Azriel to act like this if you ever got hurt. “He’s the spymaster, he’s sneaky and will teach more than I could at this point.”

You looked between Azriel and Cassian with a lifted brow. The General was biting the inside of his cheek hoping you would just say ‘yes’ so he could avoid Azriel’s deadly glare while the shadowsinger’s eyes were practically begging you.

“Okay,” you sorely got up from the floor. Shaking out your limbs, you got into a defensive stance. After eyeing Azriel’s glistening tan chest, you went for the attack.

***

Your first spar with Azriel broke the tension, and everything returned to normal. Neither of you mentioned what happened by the Sidra or the night he spent sleeping next to you and you wanted to keep it that way, it’d be easier to forget about your feelings if you ignored it. Your twisted logic surmised that exposure therapy was what you needed. The ultimate goal was to be around Azriel without feeling those butterflies in your stomach.

Since the two of you were finally interacting normally, the inner circle could breathe a sigh of relief no longer having to deal with a broody Golden Warrior and shadowsinger. Rhysand and the others knew something transpired between you but no one dared to ask what happened. Family dinners were much more pleasant whenever you joined in on the banter.

Tonight’s dinner was full of complaints, Cassian had to deal with the war camps and he always had stories to tell at the end of the day. Rhysand and Feyre were frustrated with the task of finding Bryaxis, Rhysand, and Azriel’s contacts had no idea where he could be. Remembering your short conversation with the death god, Amren suggested that you could help find Bryaxis. Azriel bristled at the thought of you near the creature again, biting his tongue when you enthusiastically offered your help.

The next few days were relatively uneventful and you were thankful for it, since Amarantha’s wrath you haven’t been able to relax and do nothing. Back in Dawn Court, there was always something for you to do but here, you could breathe. You and those who lived in the House of Wind had adapted into a routine, you had melded seamlessly into their lives; it didn't feel like you’d only been there for a few weeks.

Every night you ended up in the library with some sort of drink in your hand and a companion who you’d sit and read with until it was late and eyes were fluttering close. Sometimes Nesta, Elain, and Mor would join you but they always went to bed early, leaving you alone with Azriel. At first, you were afraid of spending more time alone with him but you thought of it as good practice to teach your body not to react when he was nearby. You had your designated spot on the loveseat while Azriel stretched out on the couch across from you. The House was rowdy during the day so it was nice to spend time with your friend. Half of the time spent in the library was the two of you having a quiet conversation and the other was spent absorbed in the books.

Nesta had lent you a stack of romance books from her collection, and you were flying through them. You might not want to be in love yourself but you liked reading about fictional people falling in love and having tender and fiery moments. The book in your hands had you slyly looking behind to make sure no one could see the pages. The love interest had wings similar to the Illyrians whose wings were extremely sensitive when touched. Your gaze flickered to the male in front of you, your eyes looking directly at the membranous leather illuminated by the fireplace. Clearing your throat, you flipped a page and tried hard to focus on the story. It was going well until the character's blonde hair began to morph into inky black hair with similar features to Azriel.

You bit your lip trying hard to think of someone else, but the image had already been branded into your imagination, even thinking about Tarquin didn’t help. The scenario in the novel was getting steamy, you imagined it would be hard to do but it was so outlandish that heat flashed through you at the thought.

No amount of magic was fast enough to cover the scent of your arousal. You looked at Azriel hoping he hadn’t noticed but it was too late. He was already smirking.

“What are you reading?” said Azriel, his voice low. “It must be fascinating.”

You sat there stunned, you’d never heard his voice that deep, and you’d never heard him purr.

It took everything in you not to stutter. “None of your business, shadowsinger.”

His demeanor had changed, his hazel eyes darkened and his jaw clenched as if he was restraining himself. You looked at him curiously and then it hit you, his musky scent of cedar and night. Attempts of deep breaths to collect your thoughts were a bad idea because now you were hypnotized, the musk and woodsy smell of you and Azriel intertwining together.

“It’s one hundred percent my business if I’m going to sit here for the next hour with you sitting there blushing and smelling like that.“

You rolled your eyes. “Fine.”

Azriel’s smirk stayed as he sat up and fully faced you eager to hear what you had to say.

“The love interest in the book has wings and he and the main character are attempting to have sex in mid-air. It’s so ridiculous they ended up crashing into a mountain, I'm just glad they did it in an unpopulated area. The only logistical way of that successfully happening is if both people had wings and even then, I’d imagine it would be difficult to do…”

You cursed yourself as intrusive thoughts of you and Azriel in that compromising position filled your head. You stomped it down and saw an amused smile on his lips, it was as if he knew what you were thinking.

Azriel clicked his tongue and his eyes bore into yours. “That does sound rather arduous and inconvenient. Couldn’t they wait?”

“I guess not, desire is desire.”

He shook his head, “That wouldn’t do it for me. I’d need a hard surface to lay my lover down.”

The Shadowsinger held his breath, he couldn’t believe he said that but he couldn’t help it.

“Agreed, it’s hard to have some control when you’re up in the air.”

Azriel leaned forward, and he found himself actively holding himself back from reaching for you. Your scent of rich lilacs and morning dew made him feel intoxicated. “What do you know about control?”

Instinct moving you closer, you met his gaze with the same intensity, feeling his cool gaze trace your lips and cheekbones. Gods, you wanted to reach over and take him on that chair. The thought of you straddling and having Azriel beneath you made your breath hitch.

“I know enough that I like control and to be controlled,” you said softly.

You swear a rumble was heard from Azriel’s chest. He wished he could cross over and kiss you but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate that.

“How peculiar, I like control too… although I don’t know how to feel about being controlled.”

No longer thinking straight, you grinned wickedly at the handsome man before you. “You should try it sometime, it may be euphoric for you, something you may end up liking.”

The two of you sat in silence, gears turning in your head while you fought internal battles. The air inside the library was thick, hot, and reeking of you and Azriel. Combined with your magic, it was making it hard to breathe. Azriel refused to touch you first, he could smell that you wanted him but you had to be fully onboard, and he knew you weren’t there yet.

While Azriel restrained himself, you were screaming at yourself for wanting this. You could scent that he wanted you too but you couldn’t make him a fling, he already meant too much.

You broke eye contact first, your arms feeling like lead as you reached for the stupid romance book. The faerie on the cover had feathered wings, their familiarity jolting and reminding you of the unusable ones glamoured on your back. Azriel was still looking at you with blown eyes, the hazel barely peeking through. He could not believe the two of you had admitted those things to each other.

You bit your lip as you slowly gathered your belongings scattered around the library, an air of embarrassment hanging in the air. This interaction was going to put a rift between the two of you and you wanted to avoid that, things were finally feeling normal.

Without thinking, you turned to him once again. “Azriel,” you said, breaking the silence. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

He blinked, your clear voice pulling him from the heated trance. “I have some tasks to do for Rhys but I’m free in the morning.”

“At sunrise, I’ll meet you on the balcony. You’re going to help me fly.”

Surprise flickered in his features but a genuine smile made its way to his face. “Whatever you wish, little dove”

***

You woke up just before the sun rose, slipping into leggings, a backless long-sleeve, and a jacket. You trudged over to the kitchen where Azriel was waiting for you with a light breakfast. The anxiety of flying had quelled any awkwardness about last night's conversation with Azriel, you were radiating with nervous energy and he noticed. In an attempt to distract you, he told you that he had learned how to fly past the appropriate age, his days in the cellar had stunted his growth in many ways. Talk of his past fully woke you up, heart-wrenching at the thought of little Azriel being deprived of a childhood.

You clung onto his neck, his warmth easing your worries as he flew directly to a discreet spot. He told you this was also where he gave Feyre flying lessons. When he placed you on the ground, you realized that your friends hadn’t seen the horrible scars on your back.

“Azriel… you haven’t seen my back or wings yet… the skin looks bad and the left wing healed a little strangely.”

He smiles softly, “Look at who you’re talking to, dove. Your scars will never scare me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you took off your jacket and slowly turned. It’s only been a few months so the scar was still red and angry. Azriel stepped closer and couldn’t help the gasp that escaped.

“It looks that bad, huh?

Azriel immediately shook his head. “No. It just makes me think of all you’ve had to endure.” Without thinking, his scarred fingers traced the jagged lines, his warm hands leaving goosebumps on your skin. “Dove, you’re stronger than you think. Let me see your wings.”

He stepped back and then you unglamoured them, hissing at the weight and strain of your wings.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

Azriel tells you to flex them out and bring them in, let the wings get used to moving again. While doing your exercise, Azriel saw what you meant by your left wing looking a little different, some feathers growing crooked but it was barely noticeable. Your white and gold feathers were still as beautiful as ever.

You were struggling since your back hadn’t moved specific muscles in months. Once Azriel was satisfied with your warm up he told you to practice lifting off the ground without any aid from jumping or using your legs. You strained but managed to rise a foot off the ground, gaining confidence, you kept trying and lifted off 5 feet in the air.

Azriel thinks you need a big push so he brings you to a large landing 10 feet in the air. Never in your life did you think you’d be scared of heights but there you were trembling at the 10-foot drop, the spymaster looking small from your vantage point.

“Lift off and then slowly fly down to the ground. You can do it!”

You looked at him warily. “What if I fall?”

“Then I’ll catch you.”

The way he said it made you gasp, it was earnest and you wholeheartedly believed him. Four simple words but in that moment, you knew you could trust him with your life.

Emptying your mind, you lifted off and shakily made your way down to Azriel with the grace of a five-year-old Peregryn child. Azriel let out a cheer the moment your feet touched the ground, his excitement making you smile.

“Do you think you can do that someplace higher?” he said pointing to a larger cliff nearby.

Fueled with how well you’ve been doing, you agreed. In no time, you were up top and Azriel was waiting in the bottom. Taking a deep breath, you lifted off and tried hard to fly gracefully. Your wings were flapping hard and about halfway down, a muscle contracted, and nerve pain shot out from your back. You let out a yelp and then began falling, Azriel was quick enough to catch you before swerving into a tree.

He carefully placed you on the ground and your hand immediately went up and glowed, trying to detect what had happened. When you couldn’t find anything wrong other than temporary muscle spasms, you ground your teeth together. Frustration coursed through your body making you burst into tears.

Azriel’s eyes grew wide, he was never good with crying females and now he had no idea what to do with his bawling mate.

“Are you okay?” he asked shakily.

You raised your hands to gesture to yourself and the world. “No, I’m not okay! I’m a fucking failure and everything is going wrong!”

Your outburst took Azriel aback. “What do you mean?”

“I shouldn’t be here. I’m the High Lord’s godsdamned second, I should be in Dawn taking care of my court but I’ve made so many mistakes my cousin had to send me here to sort myself out. On top of that, I’m a Peregryn who can’t freaking fly because of some stupid mental block. How pathetic can I get?”

The tears don’t stop coming and you cover your face, mortified that Azriel was seeing you cry like this. Weeks of built-up frustration had finally found its release, you sobbed until your breaths stuttered.

Azriel couldn’t stand hearing you talk so negatively about yourself. He watched you crumpled on the ground and his heart clenched at the sight. “No...” he whispered as he lowered himself to your level. He took your hand and gently pulled you to sit up. Azriel slung an arm to support your sore back while one hand stroked your cheek. “You are anything but pathetic. You were doing so well and I pushed you too hard today, we shouldn’t have done that last drop. I’m so sorry, dove.”

“Don’t be sorry, Az,” you blubbered out. “I checked and nothing’s wrong with me. I’m sore but it was all in my head.”

You leaned against his warm chest as the words sank in. Azriel’s large hands rubbed small circles on your back, his touch soothing you into a calm state, your breathing slowly matching his. Cool wisps stroked your feathered wings and your lip twitched, Azriel remembered that Peregryns loved getting their wings stroked.

“This mental block…” you began, “I’m scared of losing my wings. Aside from my sword, my wings are all I have left of my father. It’s so stupid but I hid my wings for fear of losing them. I feel foolish because my Peregryn soldiers aren’t part Fae like me. Like you, they can’t retract their wings and here I am complaining about feeling vulnerable.”

Azriel continued to smooth your skin, his touch leaving tingles. His brow was furrowed, hazel eyes looking at you with so much intensity you couldn’t understand it.

“You must think I’m pathetic.”

He vehemently shook his head.

“No,” his hand traced the scar on your cheek. “You’ve lost so much and all you do is give. No one blames you for acting like this. Let’s end today’s session and pick it up when I come back from my mission. I told you I'd help you fly again and I would never break a promise.”

You merely nodded and let Azriel hold you close as he flew to the House of Wind. He landed gently on the balcony and to your surprise, you see the inner circle eating their breakfast. You bristled at first, wondering if you should glamour your wings but Azriel’s little smile and comforting hand on the small of your back stopped you. You nodded towards your friends and made your way to a chair. The inner circle did their best not to gape at the sight of your wings or the partially hidden scar on your back. They notice your red blotchy eyes but no one says anything when they see Azriel discreetly shake his head, asking his family not to bring it up right now.

You remain quiet during breakfast, your mood slowly improves with every joke amongst your friends. Once the meal was over, Cassian had managed to successfully rope you into the ridiculous banter, your eyes shining with tears of laughter.

Nesta was brave enough to bring up your wings, she called them lovely and you drew them out a bit to show more feathers. Cassian who was finally able to freely look at your wings burst out with words that sent everyone into screaming laughter.

“So, whose wingspan is bigger?”

The group had decided the age-old question was finally going to be answered. Amren cackled with glee when the House provided a tape measure on the table. Mor squeals in excitement and one by one, she carefully measured every winged fae’s wingspan. From smallest to largest, it went from Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, you and then Azriel. Upon hearing the results, Azriel’s eyes snapped to his brothers and then to you with a wicked grin. You rolled your eyes because the Peregryn’s must have the same thought about wing size and male bodily appendages.

The lord of bloodshed growled in dissatisfaction, insisting that everyone gets measured again. His pout grew when he realized that Azriel did have a bigger wingspan than him. Cassian was never going to hear the end of it.

He looked over to your white and gold feathers and his frown deepened. “If the Golden Warrior was a male, that’d mean her manhood would be more grand than mine.”

This sent everyone into hysterics, Rhysand was howling in laughter as Feyre clutched your arm, making you double over. Azriel was shaking his head but even he couldn’t help reacting to Cassian’s comment.

As the merriment died down, Rhys and Azriel looked at their watches, their faces growing serious at the thought of the Shadowsinger’s mission ahead. Azriel disappears into the shadows only to emerge a minute later dressed in full Illyrian leathers, his chest, and legs strapped with weapons.

Waving you over to the balcony, Azriel towered over you, the playfulness from earlier was long gone. Something in your heart twists and you suddenly feel nervous for Azriel.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t tell you that…but Rhsyand will fill you in later.”

You peered inside to look for the High Lord only to find everyone had left, leaving you and Azriel alone.

Eyeing the glinting hilt of Truthteller, you lift a brow at him. “Will you be okay? You’re armed to the teeth… are you going to need back-up?”

His heart leaps at the thought of you worrying about him. “I’m just being cautious, it’s a quick reconnaissance trip. I’ll see you by lunch tomorrow.”

Your mouth twists, something didn't feel right even though there was no reason to feel like that. Azriel was more than capable of a reconnaissance mission so you smiled up at him and wished him luck. Feeling bold, Azriel grasped your hand and gave it a little squeeze before swiftly turning around and taking off from the balcony.

Your fingers tingled and warmth seeped onto your face as you watched his figure grow smaller against the cool blue sky. It was odd but you found yourself looking forward to seeing Azriel safe and sound back at the house. You startle when your thoughts about Azriel are interrupted by an obsidian claw knocking on your mental shield. Leaving a crack open, you let Rhysand’s voice fill your mind.

“Meet me in my office… Thesan and I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

a/n: I am so so sorry for the long wait. life has been crazy and I hope you're all doing well. thank you for reading xoxo

taglist: @inloveallthetime , @phoenix666stuff, @books-and-lit, @fightmedraco, @annamariereads16, @gorlillaglue25

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n

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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years ago

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Whipped - Luke Skywalker X GN Reader

Title: Whipped

Luke Skywalker X GN Reader (Han X Leia included)

Additional Characters: Han, Leia, Chewie, R2D2, C3PO (Mentioned), Yoda (Mentioned), Rebel Alliance people (Mentioned), and TIE Fighters (Mentioned)

Requested by @micheleamidalajedi

WC: 2,325

Warnings: Luke is smitten, teasing, taunting, anxiety, nervousness, wingman Han, wingwoman Leia, baby angst, bets, joke fighitng mentioned, fighting mentioned, blasters mentioned, killing so of briefly mentioned, set sometime during The Empire Strikes Back, confession, friends to lovers, cute name-calling (on Leia's part), and fluff

Luke sighed, his hand resting on his chin as his half-lidded daydreaming eyes gazed at you from afar. You were brushing your hair, talking to Chewie and Leia about something, your occasional laugh echoing throughout the base. The sound of your voice was enough to make him smile in an idyllic way and he wished for nothing more than to hear that melodic voice forever. He didn't know if this was a crush or not but Luke couldn't help it; he had been smitten ever since your first encounter a while ago. He thought you were beautiful, the most beautiful person he'd ever encountered. He felt a pang of sadness whenever he thought about the fact that he couldn't have you all to himself, and so often he would find himself fantasizing about what could happen between the two of you. And every time, he would melt into a puddle of goo.

You had taken a liking to Luke, thinking he was quite adorable. It wasn't long before you found yourself gravitating towards him even though you couldn’t go a couple sentences before freezing up. You didn't think you'd be so shy, usually, you were good at conversation with others, but with Luke... You stumbled over your words. Every time you opened your mouth to speak to him, you found yourself unable to utter a single word. It was quite strange because he seemed so nice, kind, and funny. You didn't understand how anyone would be able to not resist such an angelic-looking face, yet here you were doing just that, falling hopelessly in love with him.

Leia saw right through you, she saw the way you looked at Luke, almost longingly. "What are you waiting for?" She teased when she noticed your fidgety state. "Go talk to him." She encouraged, trying to contain her own happiness over the fact that you had a crush on the young man. "He has been staring at you for days now." She pointed out. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say he liked you too."

"He doesn't." Your cheeks burned at the accusation. "He couldn't possibly." You muttered sadly, shaking your head. You had only known the boy for a few months, after all. You weren't sure he liked you back. But there was a small part of you, deep down, that hoped. Hoped that maybe, just maybe, he did. That hope was the only thing keeping you going as you continued to brush your hair and occasionally glance up to gaze dreamily at Luke. You loved this boy already. You were hopelessly in love with him and you wanted nothing more than to tell him.

Looking up, you watched as Luke's eyes widened before he quickly looked away, turning to face Han instead with his hidden blushing face, making you second-guess. You chuckled at the sight of him getting flustered either way, your heart swelling with joy. His attention warmed your heart more than you could ever express to anyone else. You smiled fondly before you returned to your brushing, before placing down your brush and turning back to Leia and Chewie. They gave you a knowing look, a silent message for you to just do it already. But you stayed sitting, your nerves getting the best of you.

Han smirked as he watched Luke look away from you with a blushing face after he got caught, his lips curling upwards, his eyes crinkling at the edges. "I think they like you, kid," Han spoke up, his tone amused. "They're just too shy to say anything."

The blush on Luke's face darkened at the statement. "Really? It doesn't seem like it." He muttered. "It seems like it's just..." He trailed off again, unsure what he wanted to say. "Like they don't really want me around them. Like I'm annoying them."

Han let out a bursting laugh, surprising Luke as he stared at Han with furrowed brows, "Luke, buddy, as I said... They are just shy. You need to make the first move if you truly care about them." He paused, "Besides, it isn't their fault you're too blind to see that they like you."

Luke pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes slightly, "How do you even know about all this? How can you be so sure?"

Han smirked lightly, shrugging as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets, "Oh, you know... I know when someone likes me." He answered, his eye glancing over to Leia briefly. "It's a talent to know when there's romantic tension in the air."

Luke gave Han a look, "Uh-huh." He said slowly, eyeing him suspiciously, "And what makes you think there is romance?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes. "Maybe they think of me as a friend and are still just shy." He concluded.

"That." Han waved his pointer finger in the air, and Luke's eyes followed confused, "Do you see it?"

"See what?"

Han sighed, "The love in the air."

Luke groaned and got up, rolling his eyes, "I'm done with you..."

"Hey! Luke! Don't run from love!" Han called out to Luke as he quickly walked away, embarrassed.

You, Chewie, and Leia walked over to Han, confused. "What's up with Luke?" You asked as Leia and Han gave each other a brief glance before both shrugging.

"It's probably nothing," Han replied. "He's being dramatic again."

"You should go check on him," Leia suggested to you. "You always know how to cheer everyone up."

You bit your lip, "Okay..." You mumbled before walking away in search of Luke, gaining the confidence you needed.

"Who do you think will confess first?" Han asked, crossing his arms, watching as you left the room. "My credits are on Y/N."

Leia mimicked Han's stance, crossing his own arms, "Sppf, oh no, my credits are on Luke."

Han smirked, glancing down at Leia, "Well, if I win, I get to have a drink with you."

Leia rolled her eyes, "And if I win, Chewie and I will braid your hair."

Han furrowed his eyebrows, "My hair's too short to braid, princess."

"That's what you think," Leia smirked.

~~~

You wandered over to find Luke in the cockpit, he was sitting in the corner of the room, on the corner booth; just staring off into the distance as the ship hummed deeply. "Are you okay?" You asked as you sat next to him, causing him to jump in surprise. "Sorry," you apologized with a chuckle, "I didn't mean to scare you."

Luke shook his head, smiling softly at you, "No, it's alright." He responded. "Is everything alright?" He inquired.

You gave him a small smile, "You didn't answer my question first." Your voice grew serious, "Are you alright?" Your tone was soft and you stared up at Luke with concern, swallowing hard as you pushed your nerve down.

Luke took a moment to respond, before pursing his lips and nodding, "Yeah, I'm okay." He then turned to you, "What about you? Are you okay?"

You nodded your head as you averted your gaze from his, "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything is alright."

"Good..." Luke hesitated before continuing, "So, what were you, Chewie, and Leia talking about?"

You shrugged, "Nothing much, just asking Chewie about Kashyyyk." You muttered before taking a glance at the young man before you, "What about you and Han? What were you two talking about?"

Luke quickly glanced away from you, rubbing the back of his neck as he let out an awkward laugh, "Nothing special. Just Han messing around with me."

"Do you want me to talk to Leia about him? You know she'd kick his butt if anyone asked." You offered and Luke chuckled lightly.

"Could you? That'd be great." He joked as the two of you laughed together for a moment, before falling into a nerve-racking silence.

You glanced nervously at Luke, as he gazed at you. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're awfully quiet today." He commented as you tilted your head to the side.

You frowned, "Am I?"

He nodded his head, "Yeah, but I... I mean you're quiet most of the day... But, are you really okay?" Luke asked worriedly, and you let out a little giggle.

"Yeah, I am okay, Luke. Don't worry." You sighed, your hands fiddling in your lap, "You worry too much."

"I'm not that bad." He pouted.

"You're worse than me," You corrected as you playfully nudged him in the arm. "But I'm okay, really. I'm sorry that I've been acting weird lately."

Luke shook his head, noticing your fidgeting hands and taking one of your hands in his. "No, no, I get it. You don't have to apologize." Your fingers tightened around Luke's hand in response. "You know... I... I really admire you. I admire you so much, Y/N. You're strong, smart, beautiful... A wonderful person." You looked away from him, feeling your cheeks flush.

"Thank you, Luke. That means a lot. And... You're all those things and more too." You bit your lip nervously, looking back up at him, "I admire you too. So much."

"Y/N, listen-" He began, but something hit the ship, cutting him off.

Han ran into the cockpit with Chewie, landing in their seat to get out of autopilot before flying around; trying not to get hit by any more blasts.

"Kid, I need you at the blaster!" Luke stood quickly and ran to the blaster, leaving you at the booth.

"Can you get away from them?" Leia asked, stumbling over to hold tight to Han's seat.

"You know I can, your Highness, would you kindly sit down?" Han asked through gritted teeth as he turned the wheel, maneuvering past another blast.

"How long until we get to Hoth?" You asked, and Chewie belted, and you sighed. It was going to be a long and bumpy ride.

~~~

It had taken a while, but Luke was able to shoot the TIE Fighters, and soon after that, you went into hyperspace; entering Hoth's atmosphere. Time was moving so fast, it felt like right as you landed Luke was going off to find some Jedi Master. You hardly had any time to really spend time with him. He could hardly talk to you, having to get ready to go along with going to mission debriefs. You spent most of your time on the sidelines, watching Luke rushing around, and Chewie working on the Falcon as Han did... Whatever he was doing, as Leia spoke with other Rebel leaders, and R2 and 3PO bickering in the corner.

As Luke rushed by, wearing his orange suit, carrying his helmet in his arms, you rushed over. The large metal claw grabbed R2 and placed him in the back seat of the X-Wing, R2 whistling and beeping in annoyance. Leia and Han peeked out behind a hall, watching as you said your goodbyes to Luke before he flew off to Dagobah. They watched as Luke pulled you into a long hug, holding onto you for just a little bit longer than necessary; you even seemed like you never wanted to let go. And you didn't.

"Do you have to go?" You asked softly, digging your face into Luke's neck as he held his arms tightly around your waist.

"Yeah," He muttered, "I do."

"Can't I come with you?" You asked, practically begging as Luke chuckled gently, pulling back.

"My ship won't have enough room. It'll only hold R2 and I." He spoke, and you glanced up at R2D2 as he whistled, making you sigh.

You pouted lightly as you stared into his deep blue eyes, "You'll be safe, won't you?"

"Of course, I will." He smiled softly down at you, reaching forward with one hand and stroking through your hair soothingly, "Besides, I'll get to see you again soon, okay?" You nodded slowly, before stepping back to give him space.

Luke bit his lip briefly, as he stared at you, before turning around to head up to the ladder. Pausing halfway, Luke quickly turned around and rushed over, taking you into his arms, and kissing you deeply. Surprised, you slowly melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as he pressed his body against yours, kissing you hard and passionately. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and lifting you slightly off the ground. Pulling away, he buried his head into your neck, gripping you as he breathed heavily.

When he pulled back, you smiled softly at him before pecking his lips once more. "Be careful." You whispered, resting your forehead against his.

He nodded his head, "I will." He promised, pressing one last kiss to your lips before pulling away from you completely and climbing up the ladder. Luke glanced at you once more before slipping on his helmet and closing the X-Wing hatch closed. You sighed, walking backward slowly, giving room for the Wing to lift off. Han and Leia stood beside you, the three of you waving as Luke flew off. You let out a sigh, and Leia rubbed your shoulder.

"He'll be fine." She assured you.

You nodded your head, letting out a sigh, "I hope so..." You trailed off. "I know so."

Leia squeezed your shoulders comfortingly before she turned to Han, "I win, fuzzball."

Han's jaw dropped in offense, "Fuzzball!? Who are you callin' Fuzzball!?" He asked indignantly as the two of them walked off, leaving you to stand alone in the center of the hangar.

You let out a chuckle before running your fingers through your hair, sighing contently, staring off into the distance as you thought about Luke. Your mind drifted back to when he kissed you, how his hands felt so soft against your skin, how his lips felt so warm against yours, how perfect his kiss tasted, how amazing he felt against you; everything. He made you feel like nothing else mattered in the entire universe, and you loved every minute of it.

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mononijikayu · 2 months ago

Text

marutsuke — gojo satoru.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know." Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?" "I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

WARNING/S: post-hidden inventory (2006-onwards), domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

WORDS: 5.3k words.

NOTE: i wrote this a long long while ago and to celebrate jjk ending, i would like to give this as a humble offering. i've been a fan of jjk since 2019, when my friend introduced it to me. jjk means the world to me. it was there for me as much as bts was in my harsh and painful years. i am most grateful to share and continue to share the joy of it here in my little corner of the world. thank you guys for sharing the love of jjk with me. you guys are amazing. i love you guys so much. let's continue to be fans together for a long time!!! also the song is from given. its a lovely song <3

masterlist

u s and t h e m

if you want to, tip! <3

YOU HATED THIS FEELING, YOU HATED REPETITION LIKE THIS. You stood in the dimly lit hallway, fists clenched, your eyes burning with fury as you learned what had happened to the first years. The mission had gone horribly wrong, and Haibara—kind, hopeful Haibara—was dead. Nanami barely made it back. You trembled with rage, unable to process the incompetence that had led to this.

It was just like this when it was Namie.

Your mind flashed back to the past, to the same helplessness, the same sickening weight that had crushed your chest when Namie, your dear friend, had been sent out on a mission with faulty intelligence. They hadn’t even gotten her body back. You remembered the emptiness, the cold fury that took root inside you ever since.

And then there was Amanai Riko. Another loss, another innocent life extinguished because of their arrogance, their reckless disregard for the lives they swore to protect. Your nails bit into your palms as you fought back the wave of grief and anger.

And now... now Haibara.

Another young life, snuffed out before it could even truly begin. Your breath came in short, ragged bursts as the memories collided with the present, your fury building to a boiling point. You had warned them. You had fought, had demanded better, and yet nothing had changed.

"How many more?" you whispered to yourself, your voice trembling with fury. "How many more have to die before they open their eyes?"

"They had faulty intelligence," you spat, your voice laced with venom. "Faulty intelligence, and they sent them in blind. Blind!"

Your words echoed down the empty corridor, but it wasn’t enough to release the fury simmering inside you. You stormed forward, your footsteps heavy with the weight of your anger, the hallway dim and suffocating as you advanced. The rage that coursed through your veins was more than just anger—it was righteous fury, the kind that demanded answers, demanded justice for those who had fallen.

You didn’t care about decorum or procedure. Not now. Not when another life had been so carelessly thrown away.

The sight of the mission manager at the end of the hall, sitting casually at his desk, only fueled the fire inside you. He looked up, his expression one of mild surprise as you approached—indifferent, as if the death of a student was nothing more than an inconvenience, a casualty of duty.

Indifference. That look—the one that dismissed Haibara as just another statistic, another name on a growing list of losses. It ignited something in you that was barely contained.

"You!" you hissed, your voice trembling with the intensity of your rage. The air around you seemed to crackle with tension as you marched up to the manager’s desk, eyes blazing. "You sent them in blind! Faulty intelligence, and you signed off on it like it didn’t matter! Haibara is dead because of you!"

The manager blinked, clearly taken aback by your outburst, but his calm exterior didn’t waver. He leaned back in his chair, hands folded calmly in his lap, as if he was used to this—used to the accusations, used to the aftermath. He probably expected you to eventually calm down, to accept that this was just the way things were.

But you weren’t going to calm down. Not this time.

“You think this is acceptable?" you seethed, leaning over his desk. "You think sending kids in with faulty information is just part of the job? You didn’t care about what would happen to them—you cared about following protocol, making sure you checked off the boxes so you could wipe your hands clean when it went wrong."

The manager gave a slight sigh, adjusting his glasses as if the whole situation was an inconvenience. "These missions come with risks, you know that. It’s unfortunate, but we—"

"Unfortunate?" your voice rose, fury spilling over. "You think this is just 'unfortunate'? Haibara’s dead because of your incompetence, and all you can say is that it’s unfortunate?"

The manager’s lips thinned, his calm demeanor wavering for just a moment. "We did the best we could with the information we had. It’s not always perfect—"

You slammed your hands down on the desk, silencing him immediately. Your face was inches from his now, your voice low and lethal. "No. You didn’t do the best you could. You cut corners, and you sent them in knowing it wasn’t safe. You sat behind this desk while they went out there, while they—" Your voice caught for a moment, thinking of Haibara, of Namie, of Riko. "You have no idea what it’s like to lose someone because of your arrogance."

The manager didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. His silence was answer enough.

Your fists clenched again, your whole body trembling with the effort to contain your rage. You wanted to scream, to tear this entire building apart, but all you could do was stare at the man who had signed Haibara’s death warrant with his negligence. The worst part was you knew it would happen again. As long as people like him kept making decisions, more lives would be lost.

“That’s enough.” That familiar voice. You stopped.

“You piece of shit!” you snarled, your energy crackling dangerously. You lunged, but before you could strike, Yaga intervened, gripping your arms to hold you back.

You whipped around, your rage now directed at Yaga. “You! I warned you. I fucking warned you! But you listened to those old farts, didn’t you? You think it’s okay to send them in, even blindly.” Your voice cracked with fury, your eyes burning into Yaga’s. “And now, you’re stuck having to explain to Haibara’s parents why their son isn’t alive! That blood is on your hands!”

Yaga’s grip remained firm, but his expression darkened as you pressed on.

“My father would be ashamed of you,” you said, your voice low, bitter. “You’ve become exactly what he stood against.”

Yaga’s eyes hardened at your words, but he didn’t let go. He knew your anger wasn’t just at him—it was at the system, at the higher-ups, at the entire broken system that cost Haibara his life. But your words cut deep. Mentioning your father, a man Yaga once respected, felt like a blade twisted into his gut.

"Genmei," Yaga said, his voice steady but tense, "I didn't want this. You think I don’t care? You think I don’t feel the weight of it? I never wanted to send them in like that."

"Then why did you?" you snapped, stepping closer, your face inches from his, rage seething in every word. "You could’ve stopped it. You had the authority! Instead, you caved to those senile cowards who sit behind desks, making decisions they’ll never face the consequences of."

Yaga's jaw clenched, his voice growing colder. "You think I had a choice? You think I didn’t fight back? The orders came from the top, Genmei! From people I can’t defy."

You shook your head, trembling with disbelief. "So that’s it? You just roll over and let it happen? You tell them it’s fine to send kids like Haibara to their deaths? You and those spineless managers let them go out there—for nothing."

Yaga's grip on your arms tightened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "I know you’re angry. I know this isn’t fair. But it wasn’t blind. They were prepared."

“Prepared?!” Your laughter was bitter and sharp. “You call this prepared? Haibara is dead! Nanami is broken. And now you have to look those parents in the eye and tell them their son is never coming home."

Yaga’s silence spoke louder than anything. The weight of what you said settled in, his posture stiffening with the responsibility he bore. He hadn’t spoken to Haibara’s parents yet, but he would have to. And the thought of it, the unbearable weight of it, gnawed at him.

"Every single student is my responsibility, you know that." Yaga finally said, his voice quieter now, though no less strained. "I carry that burden every day. You think I don’t feel it? That it doesn’t tear me apart? But I don’t have the luxury of rage. I have to keep moving, keep fighting—for the ones who are still here."

Your hands fell to your sides, anger simmering down to a bitter ache. You looked at Yaga, your voice softer but no less furious. "They trusted you. We trusted you. And now we’re left with nothing but grief. Don’t you dare try to justify this."

Yaga looked away, his jaw clenched. "I’m not trying to justify it. There’s no justification for it. But you think I haven’t warned them, too? We both know how they operate. But my hands—"

"Don’t tell me about your hands being tied." you interrupted, your voice sharp. "You had more than just orders. You had a choice. And Haibara Yu’s blood is on all of us for not stopping it. And I'm sure....too sure. That there will be many more. All because you can't fight against those old farts."

Silence hung between you, heavy and suffocating. Yaga’s grip on your arms loosened, his expression still hardened by guilt and responsibility. He knew it too well, he knew that it was also his fault. And perhaps, in truth, you didn't blame him that much. You knew there was nothing a teacher can do against the whole of Jujutsu society. But you can't help but be angry. Just like at your father's funeral. And that too, Yaga blames himself.

“I’m going to make them pay for this.” you said in a low, deadly voice, your anger no longer explosive but cold and resolute. “The ones responsible, the ones who allowed this to happen—they’ll know exactly what they’ve one.”

Yaga met your eyes, his voice quiet but firm. "Don’t let your anger consume you. Your father would say the same thing. This world is already full of enough darkness."

Your expression didn’t change, unfazed. "Maybe it needs a little more darkness before it can see the light. My father also knew about that."

YOU WANTED TO HAVE A SMOKE. But you were sure that the sprinklers would alert people. So you went against it. You stormed out of the manager’s office, your fury barely contained as you made your way down the empty corridor.

The cold, sterile walls felt suffocating, your mind clouded with the weight of it all—Haibara’s death, Nanami’s devastation, the recklessness of the higher-ups. You needed to see him, to confront the harsh reality of what their negligence had wrought.

The morgue was dimly lit, its stillness heavy with the presence of death. You moved quietly, but your footsteps faltered as you approached. Standing just outside, you heard voices—low, tense. You stopped.

"Why not let Gojo take care of everything?" a bitter voice sneered. It was Nanami Kento.

Your breath caught in your throat as you recognized that tone. Nanami’s words were sharp, laced with exhaustion and frustration, and just as the retort began to form on your lips, another voice cut through—calm, but strained.

"Nanami, that’s enough," Geto Suguru’s voice was tired, a weariness that weighed down each syllable. "This isn’t about Satoru. Don’t take your anger out on him just because you feel helpless. We all do."

Helpless.

The word hit you like a punch to the gut. Your body froze as Nanami’s bitter words echoed in your ears, triggering a flood of memories you had buried deep. You could still see the way Kaiko had looked at you after Namie’s death, the sharp, accusatory words that came spilling out, venomous and cruel.

"Why not let Genmei take care of everything, huh? She’s always so sure of herself, isn’t she?" Kamo Kaiko had sneered, the pain of loss warping into something uglier, something that wanted to hurt others. The same helplessness Nanami was drowning in now.

You had seen the look in Kaiko’s eyes—the same bitterness, the same exhaustion, the same desperation to place the blame somewhere, anywhere, other than the black void of grief you were all struggling to survive. And you had tried to calm Kaiko down, tried to reason with her, but the pain had been too raw, too fresh. It had escalated. Words had become fists, and by the time it was over, you were both broken in different ways. You never spoke again after that fight.

Now, hearing Nanami’s voice, the echoes of Kaiko’s bitterness in every word, your heart clenched. You couldn’t let this spiral the same way.

You stepped forward, your presence quiet but commanding. The shadows shifted as you moved, your eyes falling on Nanami, who stood rigid, his face a mask of exhaustion and grief. Geto Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his own weariness mirrored in his posture. He looked over Haibara’s body, as though he was in a trance. He was shell–shocked, you think.

"That’s enough." you said, your voice calm but firm, the weight of your past mixing with the present. You couldn’t watch this play out the same way it had before. "This isn’t about blame. None of this is about whose responsibility it is to fix things."

Nanami flinched slightly at the sound of your voice, his jaw tightening as he avoided your gaze. But you knew what he was feeling because you had been there. You had stood in his shoes, grappling with the same rage, the same helplessness, when you lost Namie.

"It’s not Gojo–kun’s fault, you know that." you continued, stepping closer, your voice softer now. "And it’s not yours. Haibara’s death wasn’t something you could have prevented. Not under these circumstances."

Nanami's fists clenched at his sides, the tension in his body radiating outwards. "I could have, senpai." he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I should have."

"No." you said firmly, your voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "This wasn’t on you. Don’t let the guilt consume you, Nanami. I’ve seen it before, and I know where it leads."

The memories of Kaiko haunted you, the way grief had hollowed her out, leaving her with nothing but resentment and bitterness. You couldn’t let that happen to Nanami. Not again. This doesn’t have to continue. No one else has to suffer.

"Listen to Geto–kun, okay?" you added, your gaze softening as you looked at him. "We all feel helpless. But turning against each other won’t bring Haibara back."

Nanami’s shoulders slumped slightly, the tension in his body giving way to something closer to defeat. He didn’t respond, but you knew your words had reached him. Turning away from them, you took a breath and steel yourself. You still had one last thing to do, no matter how much it hurt.

You had to say goodbye to Haibara.

You walked out of the room, the heaviness of the conversation weighing on your shoulders. You pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, your emotions a turbulent storm beneath the surface. Your eyes immediately caught sight of Satoru, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed.

You knew, just by the way he stood, that he had heard everything. There was no need for words. His expression wasn’t the usual carefree mask he wore—it was more serious, though his eyes were still bright behind his dark shades, silently watching you.

You sighed, your frustration and exhaustion bubbling up. Without a word, you stepped closer to him and gently placed your hands over his ears, your palms lightly cupping the sides of his head. The sudden movement caught him off guard, and his eyes widened, blinking in surprise. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to understand what you were doing.

Don’t listen, you mouthed, your lips forming the words slowly and deliberately, knowing he would understand.

For a moment, Satoru just stared at you, his gaze flickering between confusion and something softer, almost curious. His lips pressed into a flat line, and after a heartbeat of silence, he nodded, an unspoken agreement passing between you.

He wasn’t going to argue. Not this time.

You let your hands fall from his ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead of you, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

You let your hands fall from Satoru's ears, giving him a weary look. There was nothing more to say. You both knew the weight of everything that had happened, and for once, Satoru didn’t push. He just stood there, understanding what you couldn’t put into words. The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and still, but the heaviness lingered in the air.

The two of you wandered outside in silence, the weight of recent events hanging heavily between you. The cold night air bit at your skin, a stark contrast to the suffocating heat of the emotions you both carried. You led the way toward the vending machines just outside the building, the quiet hum of them the only sound in the stillness.

You didn’t need to look at Satoru to know he was thinking about everything that had happened. It was rare for him to be this quiet, this subdued. You pressed the buttons on the machine without a word, watching the drinks tumble down with a soft thud. You handed one to him, the cold condensation clinging to your fingers as you took your own.

Satoru cracked open the can, the fizz breaking the silence between you. You took a slow sip of your drink before finally speaking.

“It’s not your fault, you know.” you said quietly, your voice steady but carrying the weight of someone who had seen this all before. "You can’t blame yourself for what happened."

Satoru didn’t respond right away. He took a long drink, his gaze fixed on the horizon, the usual brightness in his eyes dimmed by something heavier, more complex. He leaned against the vending machine, one hand loosely holding the can, the other shoved in his pocket. His shades were off now, dangling from his collar.

“I think it is, Genmei–senpai.” he finally said, his voice low, almost resigned. His gaze drifted down to the ground. “If I were just a little stronger, a little faster... if I had trained them better, maybe… maybe they wouldn’t be dead.”

Your chest tightened. You had heard these words before, a thousand times in different voices. From yourself, from others who had lost people they cared about. It was the familiar cycle of grief and guilt. Gojo Satoru doesn’t easily fuss over his feelings. This was the first time truly, you think, that he’d willingly told you what he felt. Without you having to ask. In a way, you think that has reminded you of yourself, even for a little bit.

"You can't control everything, Gojo–kun." you replied softly, stepping beside him. "Not even you. It wasn’t your decision to send them on that mission. You weren’t the one who messed up the intel. And you’re not the one who could have stopped it from going wrong."

He clenched his jaw, clearly wrestling with the weight of his own thoughts. Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer alive, the one who always acted like nothing could touch him—was grappling with the very human feeling of failure. It was a rare sight, one that he kept hidden behind his usual bravado. But here, in the quiet, there was no mask to hide behind.

"Being strong doesn’t mean being able to protect everyone. That’s impossible." you added, your voice quiet but firm. "Trust me, I know. We all do."

Satoru stared at his drink, the carbonation slowly rising to the surface. He let out a long breath, his fingers tightening around the can as if holding on to something he couldn’t quite grasp.

"I don’t know if I can ever believe that, you know?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "If I’m not strong enough to protect them, then what’s the point of being the strongest?"

You didn’t answer right away. You let his words hang in the air, knowing that there was no simple reply that could ease his burden. The truth was, you understood. You had felt the same way when your precious Namie died, when Amanai Riko was killed. The strength to protect felt meaningless when it failed you.

But you also knew that blaming yourself for every loss would only eat away at you, piece by piece. And you knew better than to wallow in it all. You wouldn’t be able to get up from your bed if it's all that consumes you. You didn’t want your dreams. You wanted to be awake. In your dreams, it was regret. In your reality, it was moving forward. And you’d choose a thousand cigarettes then see Namie’s eyes look at you like that again. You’d choose days awake rather than seeing Kaiko take her last breaths right in front of you again.

"The point, Gojo–kun," you finally said, your voice softer now, "is that you’re human. No matter how strong you are, no matter what kind of power you have, you’re still human, Gojo–kun. And that means sometimes... you’ll fail. It doesn’t make you any less strong. It just makes you... you."

He looked at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his bright cerulean eyes—an acknowledgment, maybe. He didn’t argue, didn’t dismiss your words like he normally would. Instead, he just took another sip of his drink and nodded slightly.

“Maybe……” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

You stood there in the quiet, the weight of your conversation lingering in the cold night air. For once, there were no easy answers, no quick fixes. Just two people, sharing a drink, carrying the same burden of loss.

You tilted your head back slightly, looking up at the night sky. The stars were faint tonight, dimmed by the city lights, much like how everything felt dulled in the aftermath of grief. You took another sip from your drink, letting the cool liquid ground you in the present, away from the spiraling thoughts of what could have been.

After a long silence, you spoke again, your tone quieter, almost contemplative. "You know, you don’t always have to carry everything by yourself, Gojo–kun."

He glanced at you, but didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still clouded with that familiar weight.

"I know you feel like it’s all on you, Gojo–kun." you continued, turning your gaze to him. "Like you're responsible for every life, every outcome. But you're not. And it’s okay to feel... this way. To feel like you’ve failed. But that doesn’t mean you have."

Satoru stared at the ground, the quiet stretching on for a few heartbeats. Then, without looking at you, he spoke, his voice softer than before. “You say that like you don’t carry it, too.”

Your grip on the can tightened slightly. You felt the truth of his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. You did carry it—always had. The weight of those you couldn’t save, the memories of missions gone wrong, the faces of the dead. You carried them all, and sometimes it felt like too much. But that wasn’t something you would admit to easily.

"You’re right. Your senpai’s a hypocrite." you said after a pause, your voice barely above a whisper. A weary smile on your lips. "I do, don’t I? But I’m learning how to let some of it go. To not let it destroy me…..I have to learn, as you do.”

Satoru finally looked at you, his gaze searching, as if he was trying to understand something he couldn’t quite grasp. There was a vulnerability in his expression, one that he rarely let show. You know that you knew the answer. And so does he. But it was easy to ignore, when you’re given the world to carry.

"How?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost hesitant.

You looked away, your eyes drifting back up to the sky. "By realizing that it’s not all on me. That I’m not the only one who’s hurting. And by letting people in, even when I don’t want to. It’s not easy, and I’m still figuring it out... but I’m trying."

Satoru was silent, processing your words. You knew how hard it was for him to let people in, to show any weakness. He had built walls so high that even those closest to him struggled to see through them. But here, in this quiet moment, you could feel those walls cracking, if only just a little.

“I guess I’ll have to try that sometime.” he muttered, his lips curling into a faint, tired smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You smiled back, though it was small and fleeting. "You could start now, you know."

Satoru let out a soft laugh, the sound almost bitter, but there was a hint of something lighter underneath it. He took another sip of his drink, shaking his head slightly. "You’re asking a lot of me right now, Gen–senpai. You know that?"

"I’m just asking you to be human, Gojo–kun." you replied softly. “Just be yourself.”

The silence that followed wasn’t as heavy as before. It was the kind of quiet that settled between people who understood each other, who didn’t need to fill the space with empty words.

After a while, Gojo Satoru straightened up, his usual mask of nonchalance slipping back into place. But something had changed, even if just a little. He glanced at you, a glimmer of his old self returning to his eyes.

"Alright." he said, pushing off from the vending machine. "I’ll try not to carry everything on my back... but don’t expect me to go soft, okay? Can’t have everyone thinking I’m losing my touch."

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at your lips. "Wouldn’t dream of it, Gojo–kun."

He chuckled, tossing his empty can into the recycling bin with a casual flick of his wrist. “Good. Now, how about we get out of here? There’s only so much doom and gloom a guy can take. I wanna go and eat some burgers! Oh, oh and have a milkshake. Come on Gen-senpai! Don't be such a slow poke!”

You watched as he started walking away, his usual swagger returning to his step. Despite everything, despite the grief and the guilt, he was still Satoru Gojo. And that, in its own way, was comforting. You lingered for a moment, finishing off your drink before following him. The weight of the night hadn’t disappeared, but somehow, it felt a little easier to bear now.

epilogue

The afternoon sun bathed the park in a warm, golden glow, casting everything in a soft light that made the moment feel almost timeless. It was a day without expectations or duties—a rare occasion for you and Satoru, a time when neither of you needed to be the strongest sorcerers alive. Instead, you were just yourselves, surrounded by the warmth of your little family.

You sat on a bench under the shade of a sprawling tree, the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. From your seat, you watched Tsumiki and Megumi, their carefree laughter ringing out as they chased each other across the grass.

Fushiguro Megumi’s small smile hinted at how much he enjoyed these quiet moments with his sister, even though he pretended to let her win. His protectiveness over Tsumiki was subtle but undeniable, and you couldn’t help but smile as you watched their innocent game unfold.

Beside you, Satoru was sprawled out lazily on the bench, his sunglasses resting atop his head, soaking in the warmth of the sun. Satoshi, your energetic bundle of joy, was clinging to his father’s arm, trying to climb him like he was a human jungle gym. The sight of Satoru—so relaxed and utterly at ease—was a rare one, a moment where he let down his guard completely.

“Baby!” Satoru said, glancing over at you with a mischievous grin. “I think our son’s trying to take me down. Think he’s got the makings of a future jujutsu sorcerer?”

You chuckled, brushing a few strands of Satoshi’s hair out of his eyes. “Maybe he’s just training to be strong like you, don’t you think?” you teased, giving Satoru a playful look. “You’ll have to watch out—he might surpass you one day.”

Satoru sat up dramatically, hoisting Satoshi into his lap. “Surpass me? Oh no, not on my watch!” He declared, tickling your son until Satoshi was giggling uncontrollably. “Satoshi, my little dawn, promise me you won’t steal my title as the strongest!”

Gojo Satoshi, between fits of laughter, batted at his father’s chest. “Papa! No tickle!”

The sound of your son’s pure joy, Satoru’s playful antics, and the peace of this moment filled your heart. For once, there was no looming threat, no mission pulling you away. It was just the simple beauty of a family enjoying a sunny day.

Megumi, a little winded from chasing his sister, wandered over with his usual stoic expression, though you could see the faintest trace of a smile. You couldn’t resist teasing him. “Are you done showing off?”

Megumi shrugged, his tone as nonchalant as ever. “I wasn’t showing off. Tsumiki just needed to win.”

Satoru reached out and ruffled Megumi’s hair affectionately. “Such a gentleman. You’re really going soft on your sister, huh?”

Though Megumi swatted Satoru’s hand away, his eyes softened. “......She deserves it” he mumbled, trying to keep his fondness for Tsumiki hidden.

Tsumiki, noticing the conversation, ran over, her cheeks flushed from the chase. She flopped down onto the grass beside Megumi, leaning against him with a contented sigh. The two siblings sat close together, exchanging quiet smiles. You could see how much they meant to each other—the bond that had formed between them was one of the most precious things in your life.

Satoru stretched out his legs, balancing Satoshi on his knee. “You know, I think this is nice.” he said, his tone suddenly thoughtful. “We should do this more often.”

You turned to look at him, curious. “Do what? Actually relax?”

He chuckled softly. “Yeah. I like this better—just us. Just our little family, you know? No titles, no missions. Just being.”

There was something so genuine in the way he said it. You leaned into him slightly, reaching for his hand, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours. “I like this too, you know?” you said softly, squeezing his hand.

He smiles back at you with the most beautiful, warm gaze. He squeezes your hand back. “I know.”

Megumi and Tsumiki sat quietly, watching your interaction with curiosity but not interrupting. You could tell they were starting to understand the unspoken bond you and Satoru shared—the love that transcended the roles you played in the world.

Satoru let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench, tugging you closer. Satoshi, who had grown tired from all the excitement, settled comfortably in his father’s lap, his small hands gripping Satoru’s shirt. The park, bathed in the soft afternoon light, seemed to wrap you all in a blanket of calm.

“If you weren’t around to keep me sane…..” Satoru mused, glancing over at you. “I might’ve forgotten what a day off even feels like.”

You smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “Oh, I’m sure you’d figure it out. You’ve always been good at pretending the world’s problems don’t exist.”

Satoru grinned, though there was a softness to his voice. “Maybe. But this…” He looked down at Satoshi, then over at Megumi and Tsumiki, who were now engrossed in their own conversation. “This is real. This is what matters.”

His words struck a chord in you. For so long, your lives had revolved around the constant threat of danger, the weight of responsibility. But here, at this moment, it was just the four of you—your makeshift family—enjoying a quiet afternoon in the park.

Leaning into Satoru’s warmth, you whispered, “Yeah, this is what it’s all about.”

The park’s hum continued around you: the distant laughter of children, the rustling leaves, and the occasional chirp of birds. But in your little bubble, time seemed to slow down. For a moment, there was no past, no future—just the present, where everything felt exactly as it should.

You rested your head on Satoru’s shoulder, Satoshi nestled between you both, and Megumi and Tsumiki chatting softly beside you. In this quiet, peaceful moment, you realized that despite the chaos of your lives, these simple, precious moments made all the struggles worth it.

And for now, that was more than enough.

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yourlocalmerchgirl · 9 months ago

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The War Within - Part One

Briefly Joel x Neurodivergant Reader Then Tommy x Neurodivergant wife reader

Summary: You've only been with Joel for 6 months when the outbreak happens, flipping your entire life into a hell scape. Feeling backed into a corner and completely suffocated by life you decide to join the Fireflies with Tommy after a heartbreaking event to search for a better life and the two of you end up in Jackson

A twist of fate happens and you and Tommy Fall in love and get married when Joel and Ellie turn up in Jackson one day and you have to face him all these years later

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Angst- Lots of it, Verbal fighting- lots of it , course language, emotional, some fluff and happiness, talks of anxiety, depression, Panic attacks, Neurodivergant reader. No use of y/n. Reader goes by the nickname Birdie. Use of typical pet name.

A/N: I hope you all love this new multi part journey I've been working on, I'm extremely proud of this story. I understand that this storyline/ themes aren't for everyone. Part Two will be out shortly.

More often then not you felt like you were outside of your body, floating above it.

Being a spectator to your own life, watching as your dissociative cocoon wrapped itself around you taking hold.

You found yourself in this position for days or weeks at a time. It was your body’s way of protecting itself after years of constantly being in fight or flight mode.

You looked on as you desperately tried to hold on to what little you had left, to your life with Joel. But it was like trying to hold on to a wet rope in the middle of a tsunami. Slowly losing your grip you began to drown, fighting desperately to stay above water. The more you tried to kick to the surface, the more tired you became and the more tired you became the less you fought to stay afloat.

Time dragged on, the air had a thickness to it you’d not yet felt. Everything sounded slow and muffled as you tried to make sense of why and how long you two had been fighting for.

“Are you even listening to me?” Joel pressed, getting more aggravated by the minute.

He got nothing as you blankly stared back him, eyes glazed over.

“Unbelievable…. I should be looking after Sarah, not looking after you”

Joel’s words snapped you back to reality. the fog that incased you not thick enough to protect you from the verbal blow as it struck you, deep and abrupt.

Your whole body burned, the tears started falling so quickly that you had no hope of stoping them even if you tried. The two of you often hastily said things to each other in the heat of the moment when you both reached the point of overstimulation. Things that neither of you meant. But this, this felt different. You knew the tone of Joel’s voice well, always able to understand his meaning by the tone of his voice. His tone was razor sharp, with an anger behind it that he had never used with you before.

“This is why we can’t talk things out like this, why nothing gets resolved. Because you cry every-time we have a argument”

“Are you fucking kidding me Joel?” You shout. Completely losing all ability to keep it in.

“Im sorry I care, that I’m emotional. Trust me I would much rather feel nothing 24/7 than to feel everything as if it’s a electrical currant passing through me, but I can’t. No matter how fucking hard I try I’m always going up be sensitive and emotional.”

“The state of the world doesn’t exactly lend its self to being emotional, one wrong move when your heads not focused could cost someone there life. You- you get stuck in these episodes and it’s like your not in your body anymore, I can’t keep keepin an eye on us both. You’re gonna get us killed one of these days.”

It hurts like hell, but it’s the truth and deep down you know it. But it doesn’t make you any less hurt and angry because it’s the truth either.

“I’m sorry Joel. I’m sorry that I should of died instead of Sarah, I’m sorry that no matter what I do I’ll never be enough for you.”

Your admission stuns Joel, your words cutting him like a straight blade razor. You’d never said anything like that about yourself, atleast not out loud you hadn’t.

“I can’t fucking talk to you when we’re like this. I’m going out” Joel exclaims while grabbing his coat.

“Wait, it’s almost curfew, where are you going?” You ask, everything but concern draining from your body.

“I don’t know? I’m just fucking going out, don’t wait up for me” Joel says as he slams the door

“I love you” you shout after him, but if falls on deaf ears.

You cried in silence, thinking about what had lead you to this point. You and Joel never had the chance to truly be happy. Your relationship was so new when the outbreak happened that it was doomed from the start. You two never had the chance to fully open up to each other

It wasn’t all his fault either, Joel was hardened by the cruel bitch that was the universe when it took the one thing he loved more than life itself. You also knew you weren’t easy to deal with, never getting the opportunity to talk to Joel about your anxiety and depression that stemmed from it. About how to spot if you were getting overstimulated and anxious and how to help talk you down from it. Or about how much you relied on a schedule and a routine to navigate life and how much progress you’d made with it all in therapy. Instead you were both thrust into a situation you didn’t have the tools to deal with and thus your relationship suffered at the hands of it.

The further past curfew it got the more you worried about Joel. It terrified you to think about the situations that would unfold if he was caught by Fedra. Dressing in all dark clothing you decided to go out searching for Joel.

Lurking in the shadows for hours you search for Joel, checking every inch of the qz and the seedy areas people hangout after curfew with no luck. The sun will start coming up soon, so you head back to the apartment hoping Joel managed to stumble back there unscathed.

You hear some commotion inside as you reach your apartment door. Slowly opening the door you feel like the wind got knocked out of you when you see Joel burred deep inside Tess, telling her how much he loved her. You stumble backwards as you try to catch your breath, refusing to believe you’re actually seeing this. But the scene before you never changes and your forced to realize this is unfolding in front of your eyes. Silently scrambling you grab your emergency go bag by the door and shut it behind you.

Your mind is racing as you slid down the wall and slump over. Gasping for breath you try desperately to comprehend what you saw, trying think quickly about what to do.

——————————————————————

Tommy springs awake at the sound of frantic knocking on the door. Creeping up slowly to the door, pistol in his hand.

“Who is it?”

“I-it’s me…it’s Birdie” your voice meek and distraught, tone barely above a whisper.

Tommy quickly unlocks the door to find you on the other side, eyes bloodshot and and desperate. Your body langue is defeated as Tommy notices your backpack.

“C-can I come in?” You ask, a hoarseness to your voice. Your eyes trained on the ground.

“Birdie, what’s wrong? Everything alright?” His face etched with concern as he looks you over.

“ Is- is there any way to join the fireflies quickly. To- to be able to leave the QZ with you guys tonight?”

“You get Joel to join the fireflies?”

“No n-not Joel, for me..just me” you shake your head. Your voice shakes as you speak. Your head hung low, eyes glued to your feet.

“Look at me Birdie” Tommy says gingerly, cupping your chin with his thumb and index finger, gently lifting your head to meet his gaze.

“Did he hurt you? He didn’t hit you did he?” He asked in a firm but calm tone while turning your face side to side to check for visible marks.

Tommy didn’t believe Joel was capable of laying a hand on you like that but he needed to make sure. His brother had become more angry and violet over the years. Drinking more and pushing home made drugs to some of the fedra guards and he was starting not to recognize the man Joel was becoming.

You shook your head.

“Hurt me yes, hit me no. We’ve been hurting each other for to long and I just can’t handle it anymore. I- I can’t live like this anymore and the two if you are the only people I trust.”

“Does he know your leavin’?”

“If they will let me go I’ll go in slip a note I wrote under the door. If not i don’t know what I’ll do”

“Let’s go talk to them. I’m not sure what’s goin’ on between the two of you but I’m not leavin you here like this, but I’m also not going to press you about what’s goin’ on if you don’t want to talk about it”

“ I’ll talk about it eventually Tommy I just can’t talk about it right now much less think about it, I’m just in to much pain”

————————————————————

It’s nearly dusk when Joel wakes up, rolling over to wrap his arm around you.

“I don’t want to fight like that anymore baby girl” Joel says as he nuzzles into your neck, but his eyes snap open the moment he realizes somethings off, that you scent is different. That’s when realizes the grave mistake he made when he sees it’s Tess in your bed and not you.

“What the fuck is going on” Joel shouts while pushing himself out of bed.

“What the fuck are you doing here? Where’s Birdie?”

“You didn’t seem to be complaining a couple hours ago that she wasn’t here”

It’s in this moment as Joel feels the color drain from his face that he’s made a detrimental mistake. That he hadn’t been with you at all last night, that it wasn’t you when he’d finally said I love you.

Joel immediately starts putting his boots on to go looking for you. His motions panicked and scrambled.

“You heard me, I said get the fuck out and don’t come back”

As Joel slams the door he hears paper crinkle under his boot, he steps back to see a folded piece of paper with his name on it just inside the door. He unfolds it yo find a note from you.

Dear Joel,

I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for the pain and frustration I’ve caused you over the years. The way we’ve been living isn’t healthy for either of us and just can’t stomach it any longer. You don’t deserve to be worried about both of us constantly because I can’t handle life in the dystopian universe well. You said if anything were to ever happen to go to Tommy that he take care of me so rest easy knowing that right up until the end I listened to you. I’ve joined the fire flies with him and by the time you see this we will have left the QZ in search of a better living situation. Tommy will message you here and there on the radio. You and Sarah will always have a place on my heart.

Love,

Birdie

Anger and failure blend together in a unrelenting weight on Joel’s chest as he flips the kitchen table over, papers flying everywhere, glass breaking.

—————————————————————-

About 10 years later

Tommy is up on the scaffolding when he hears the unmistakable tone of his brothers voice

“Tooommmyyyy”

Tommy runs down the stairs as Joel’s jumps from the horse he’s on and the share in a tight embrace.

“The fuck you doin here?”

“I came to save you guys”

Tommy and Maria take Joel and Ellie into the mess hall for a meal. As Tommy’s taking his coat and gloves off he slips his ring into his pocket, not ready to tell Joel that the two of you are in love, that you’d gotten married. Not wanting to have the conversation in front of everyone. Emotions swirl around Tommy’s head, on one hand he’s happy to see his brother on the other hand fear and resentment in not knowing what kind of person his brother is these days.

“I trust the two of you would like some time alone, I’ll take Ellie up to the house to shower and set her up with clothes and then take her to the town movie night” Maria says

“It’s ok Ellie you can go with her, it’ll be alright”

“ Tommy a word in private before you do so?”

“Is Birdie going to be alright?”

“I think she’s going to be a bit shaken, she has therapy tonight and I know she’ll be home right now unwinding so she won’t just bump into him. Imma make sure she knows tonight that he’s here.”

—————————————————————

“It doesn’t look like you’ve aged much” Joel says taking a seat at the bar of the tipsy bison, nervously smoothing his hand over it.

“You on the other hand” Tommy offers.

“Is she here? Is Birdie alive?” Joel asks nervously

“Yes she’s here in Jackson”

“Where is she? I want to see her” Joel presses

“Now slow down Joel, ya can’t just waltz in here and demand to see her”

“ The fuck I can’t! You ain’t her keeper. I have the right to see her”

“I’m not her keeper nor am I trying to be, all I’m trying to say is she’s made a lot of progress since we’ve been here. Her health and well being has improved 10 fold thanks to therapy.”

“Therapy?”

“One of our residents here used to be a therapist before the outbreak so we built her a place to practice out of and birdie goes every week like she did before the outbreak”

“She went to therapy before? I didn’t know that”

“And I suppose you never asked either”

Tommy’s comment gets under Joel’s skin. Bringing up resentment that had be just below the surface.

“So what’s this have to do with you tellin’ me I can’t see Birdie?”

Tommy let’s out a frustrated huff at Joel’s pressing. He doesn’t want to argue with his brother, they havnt seen each other in so long the last thing he wants to do is get into a fight. But Tommy’s one and only goal is protecting you and he will be as harsh as he has to be to get Joel to understand, even if he doesn’t like the answers.

“Because Joel you just arrived with a mystery kid, she has no idea your even here. You just turning up at her door with no notice would have her shaken, set back her mental health. She deserves to atleast know your here. To make her own decision on wether or not she wants to see you”

“So what are you really doing out here Joel? What’s with the kid?”

“She needs to go to this firefly base out here so Marlene hired me to bring her out here. And I took the job so I could get out here and save you guys.”

“Why did you think we needed saving?”

“I don’t know Tommy maybe because the two of you guys stopped fucking messaging me back. Because Marlene said you weren’t with the fireflies anymore. It must be because your girl keeps you on a short leash.”

“Maria? It is because of a rule we put In place here but she ain’t my girl. We started having some rough people coming through because they found out about us from radio activity so we had to be more careful and only use it for emergency’s.”

“ Let me show you where you guys will be staying so you can rest, clean up and go to the town movie night if you’d like.”

—————————————————————

Tommy can’t help but smile about the way you look up from your book when he walks through the door, food from the mess hall in his hands.

“Hey baby” you coo, the smile on your face lighting up the room when you see him.

“Hey sweet girl, sorry I’m home a lil late. But I have your favorite, it was Shepards pie night at the mess hall.”

You get up to take the food containers from him, placing them on the counter as he wraps his arms around you.

“How did therapy go to today babe?” Tommy asks as he kisses your temple.

“It went good, just exhausted by it tonight”

After dinner your curled up on the couch with your head in his lap asking him about his day.

“Baby I need to tell you something” Tommy breaths out his voice hardly above a whisper.

“Ok… is everything ok?” You ask starring up at him.

“I’m afraid it’s probably going up upset you” Tommy says rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“What is it Tommy?” You ask as you sit up. Mind racing with what it could be.

“Joel’s here, in Jackson”

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#fanfic #tommy miller #gabriel luna #the last of us #tommy miller x reader #pedro pascal #neurodivergent #joel miller #tommy tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #tommy miller x f!reader

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thollandsgirl2013 · 29 days ago

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𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩

Parings → Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings → fluff, spider bite, sickness

Summary → During a field trip to Oscorp, Peter is bitten by a radioactive spider. You leave early with him, and Aunt May picks you up. At Peter’s apartment, you comfort him and hope for a quick recovery.

The Midtown High School students buzzed with excitement as they entered Oscorp's science lab for their field trip. Your heart pounded with a mix of anxiety and anticipation as you walked beside your boyfriend, Peter Parker, whose curiosity about the lab was evident in his eager eyes behind his glasses.

“Are you ready for this?” Peter asked, his voice filled with enthusiasm.

You nodded, trying to smile despite your nerves. “Yeah, I’m excited. I hope we get to see some interesting stuff.”

As you entered the lab, you were greeted by the impressive array of exhibits. You and Peter, along with your friend Ned, moved towards the display featuring genetically altered spiders. Peter, eager to capture every detail, began snapping photos with his camera. You watched him, feeling both fascinated and nervous about the unusual creatures on display.

Peter, engrossed in taking pictures of you near the spider exhibit, was oblivious to a small, radioactive spider making its way to the edge of its enclosure. The red and blue spider, drawn to the bright lights of Peter’s camera, crawled onto his hand without him noticing.

You, adjusting your own focus after the flash of Peter's camera, glanced up just in time to see the spider bite Peter. Peter flinched but quickly slapped his hand, killing the spider instantly. Your heart skipped a beat as you noticed the bite mark but said nothing, trying to remain calm.

“Peter, are you okay?” You asked softly, your voice laced with concern. You took a step closer, your eyes searching his face for any sign of distress.

Peter winced slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of a sting, that’s all.”

“You don’t look fine,” you said, your concern growing. “You’re a bit pale.”

Peter tried to brush it off. “It’s nothing. Just a little bite.”

Ned, noticing your conversation, but was distracted by the excitement of the exhibit and didn’t pay much attention to Peter’s reaction. The students continued to explore, but you kept a close eye on Peter. You noticed he seemed to be sweating and his movements were sluggish.

“Mr. Harrison,” you called to your teacher, who was supervising the students. “Can we leave early, please? Peter doesn’t look well. He seems to have a fever.”

Mr. Harrison looked at Peter with concern. “Alright, Y/n. If Peter needs to go home, that’s fine. Just make sure you have a note from a parent when you get back.”

Peter, feeling lightheaded and warm, nodded weakly. “Thanks, Mr. Harrison.”

You helped Peter gather his things while Ned, looking puzzled, asked, “Are you sure you’re okay, Peter?”

Peter gave a weak smile. “I’ll be fine. I think I just need to rest.”

Aunt May arrived shortly after, having been called by you. She picked you both up from the lab in her car, her face lined with worry as she glanced back at Peter.

“Peter, honey, are you alright?” she asked, her voice full of concern.

Peter managed a faint smile. “I’m okay, Aunt May. Just feeling a bit off.”

Aunt May drove you both to Peter’s apartment, where you helped him inside. You guided him to a quiet spot on the couch and fetched a cool cloth for his forehead.

“I hope you feel better soon,” you said, your voice gentle as you sat beside him.

Peter managed a faint smile. “Thanks for being here with me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You settled beside him, holding his hand. “We’ll get through this. Just rest and take it easy. I’ll be right here.”

As the evening wore on, you stayed by Peter’s side, your worry palpable but your support unwavering. You prayed silently for his swift recovery, hoping that the strange events of the day would soon be nothing more than a distant memory.

‎∗ ࣪ ˖༺ 𓆩☆𓆪 ༻˖ ࣪ ∗

#peter parker fanfiction #peter parker spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x you #tom holland #tomholland2013 #spider man #tom holland spiderman #thollandsgirl2013

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deansapplepie · 1 year ago

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Till THE DEAD do us part |Chapter 13

A/N: This story will take place in all the seasons, but it’s not exactly a rewriting cause I’d have to re-watch everything to use the exactly lines of the characters, also I think it’s better if I tell a side story without changing the main facts of the story. This story has a Female Reader, but I don’t describe her appearance, so anyone can identify with her.

Chapter 12 Chapter 14

Series Masterlist Main Masterlist

Chapter 13: This group’s broken

Summary: Randall is still a problem the group needs solve and come to an agreement about. The happenings of the barn is still something shaking some people. Feelings and traumas from the past comes to haunt Y/N making her anxiety boil and overthink a lot.

Warnings: swearing, angst, death, mentions of violence, gore, suicide attempt (not narrated, but mentioned), mentions of depression, mentions of torture, mentions of execution, traumas, anxiety, mentions of abusive relationships, fear of abandonment, brief discreet mentions of sex, loss, grief. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 5,834

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. Also, there’s a bunch of warnings in this one but there’s also fluff, comfort and a bit of fun.

Finally Randall’s leg was well enough so he could survive alone in the wild that was Earth now, so Rick and Shane would carry him miles away from the farm and release him. You weren’t very happy about Rick going alone with Shane.

“Let me go with you, please.” You pleaded Rick for the millionth time, Shane wasn’t someone reliable anymore, you couldn’t risk losing your brother again and have Shane coming back with some lame excuse how he made for Otis.

“Y/N, I’m the one here with self defense skills, not you. I can handle myself well without you. I need you here.” Rick said, and that would be the last time he would tell you, he was losing his temper already. “No discussion.”

“Be careful, please. He’s dangerous.” You hugged him and gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“I’ll be, don’t worry. I need this time alone with him. I’m coming back.” He assured you and hoped it would really turn out like this, because you could see the madness in his eyes, and by how we was obsessed with Lori… you didn’t doubt he would be able to do atrocities even to his ‘brother’.

After they left, you couldn’t get rid of the uneasy feeling you had on the pitch of your stomach. You were going to help around in the farm and in the house, but your mind couldn’t stop the worry. You were giving the horses water when you heard a knock on the stables door, you look to your side and you saw Daryl. As much as the idea of scaring you was tempting enough, he chose not to do so.

“Just wanted to let ya know I’m gonna hunt, maybe bring somethin’ good.” He approached you.

“Ok, be careful, please and don’t come back late. I’m already worried enough by Rick.” You said, then looked both sides and didn’t see anyone around. You tiptoed and pecked his lips.

He blushed, he had been doing way more than this with you and he blushed because you gave him a small kiss inside a stable where the only witnesses were the horses. He knew you were worried about Rick being alone with Shane, things between you and Shane had gone bad since the day of the happenings of the barn and it was just going down. When Daryl told you one night that he thought Shane had killed Otis, things spiraled really quick and you started seeing Shane with different eyes, many attitudes from him made sense actually. He wasn’t the person that you used to know anymore.

“Dun worry. Rick’s tough, he basically came back from the dead, nothing bad is happening to him.” He said, he could practically read your mind and know everything you were thinking about it.

“And you?”

“Me too. I’m gonna be careful. I promise, I’ll be back in one piece.” He gave you a quick kiss, you said your goodbyes and you went back to your chores.

Lori was inside the house helping with the chores and also helping Maggie taking care of Beth. She was still not good, she was in a state of depression that got all of you worried. Lori was preparing a lunch for Beth, so you were around the kitchen with her and Maggie. Maggie was talking about Glenn with Lori, you decided to not participate of the conversation, but you were listening to everything. Lori was more experienced on the topic of relationships, you knew what was good or not, but just theoretically. Until now you had had just one boyfriend before Daryl and it was a shitty experience, so you didn’t know if you had something wise to say even though you were older than Maggie. You thought it was a bit too much when Lori said that Glenn should man up, imagine saying it to the young man, he would be sad or really offended, or both.

“Glenn is just scared, he’s a good guy. You’re probably his first love, I can’t say it for sure, but that’s what it seems. He’ll overcome this fear of him. Don’t worry.” You passed an arm on Maggie’s shoulder and gave a little squeeze on her arm to reassure her.

“And how about you and grumpy man? Have you already said the words?” She elbowed you playfully.

“Hmm… no. Not exactly. I don’t know if it’s like this.” You said, you were always reserved about your personal matters, always keeping everything to yourself, afraid to let people know your feelings or to be exposed and feel weak. But maybe, some girl talk wouldn’t be that bad. “He said the other day I was his and I also said it to him…” You paused thinking if you’d say the other thing that came to your mind to them.

“And…?” Lori asked. “We know there’s more. Spill it.”

“He… he said that his… you know… was mine.” You blushed instantly talking about it and thinking about it. Was it correct to tell such thing to others? You never knew what was ok, and what wasn’t, but it’s not like if you were telling all the sordid details of what you two did.

Lori made a face as if she was thinking ‘wow, the man really have some balls’ and Maggie just had a fit of giggles, giving you a side hug and squeezing you. “It’s almost the same thing as saying that 3 words.” Maggie observed.

“It isn’t, this is possessiveness which is normal in relationships even the healthy ones. But anybody can have this without love.” You told Maggie, she was young, probably didn’t have unhealthy relationships she wouldn’t know. You were maybe 8 or 9 years older than her, it was a different experience, especially with broken people.

“Well… everybody can see, but we can’t stop you from being stubborn. I need to go help Glenn, but if you need anything you can call me.” She said and then turned to Lori. “Thank you so much for helping with Beth.”

“It’s nothing really.” Lori said and got the tray to give lunch for Beth.

You stayed at the house and helped Lori at the kitchen, you washed some dishes and cleaned and organized the room. After one hour or so, Lori went to Beth’s room to get the tray back. She came back with untouched food, Beth couldn’t continue like that. When she was throwing away what Beth didn’t eat, she suddenly stopped and ran from the kitchen.

“What happened? Lori?” You asked her, but she was already gone. She came back a knife in hand and in a rush.

“Go and Keep an eye on Beth. I’m gonna bring Maggie or Hershel.” She said and left.

You left the kitchen and went to Beth’s room, on your way you put the pieces together and realized Beth had hidden the knife and was probably going to attempt something against herself. Soon Lori arrived with Maggie and Andrea, Maggie asked to be left alone with Beth and all of you went back to the kitchen.

You were trying to be in good terms with Andrea again, so you decided you’d try not to talk back at her when she said stupid things, even though they were talking about Beth. You just stayed there watching while they talked Andrea thought Beth should make her own choice, which is very different from what happened with her. Beth is just a kid and she’s not dying because she was bitten, so why let her commit suicide? She should be talked to and taken care of to help her get better. You bit your tongue trying to not express yourself, but you just couldn’t contain it when Andrea brought up the fact that Lori had her husband back, her child was saved, she had a baby on the way and had a ‘boyfriend’. And Andrea had to finish bringing you up in the middle of the thing, did you disagree with her? Yes. But did you say anything about it? No, just on your mind. So why bring you to the discussion?

“And you…” She pointed at you startling you at the suddenly call. “You have your brother, your nephew, a new nibling on the way and you’re fucking Dixon like rabbits, you would never understand.”

“Andrea, are you serious? I wasn’t even in the discussion. Why do you always involve me in your shit? You don’t get to speak like this to Lori, we had a lot of blessings, but we also suffered like everyone else. Do you think we were happy the whole time we thought Rick was dead? Or that it didn’t cross our minds that Carl was going to die? You think we didn’t suffer because of Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Sophia or all the others lost we had along the way?” She said everything she wanted to Lori and now she was going to listen to you. “And why do you mind who I fuck? You’re fucking Shane, and nobody told you a word. Mind your own business.”

You almost didn’t stop to breath while the words just came out of your mouth like a waterfall. “I wasn’t going to say anything regarding Beth, but she’s only sixteen. She’s a kid, we have to protect her and try to help her get better, and not encourage the way out. Andrea, I think we’re never going to be in good terms again, there’s no way. You’re not the same anymore.”

You left the house and went back to the camp, finding Carl and Luna playing with a stick. Carl had been acting colder and colder in the last days, it was good to see him being a kid, even if it was for a brief moment. You played a little with them, but to be honest you were still nervous about Andrea and worried about Beth.

After 30 minutes, maybe one hour, you didn’t know exactly, you heard a commotion in the house. You told Carl to stay there and ran to see what happened. When you arrived to the source Lori and Maggie had just opened the door to the bathroom and there was a crying Beth, hand on her bleeding pulse, asking for help and saying she was sorry. You learned Maggie had left Beth alone with Andrea and it was her biggest mistake, because she left the girl alone and God knows what she said to her. Maggie had a fight with Andrea and told her to never again step in the house. You were done, your stress level was up on the sky already.

When it was almost getting dark you saw Daryl coming back, you walked in his direction happy to see him and have an excuse to not be in the camp, hence near to Andrea. You met him halfway, he had some rabbits and squirrels, you knew it probably wasn’t what he really wanted but you were grateful for any meat that he brought back.

“I thought you’d never comeback.” You said walking by his side.

“I said I’d comeback.” He answered and took a quick glance at you. “Jus’ didn’t wanna comeback without something.”

“We’re all grateful to you, bringing meat or not.” You said while you arrived the small camp of yours.

He took everything he needed to start to skin what he brought and clean so it would be ready for consumption. You sat near him observing his work, you never tried, but now you had observed him doing it so much that you’d probably be able to skin something if you needed or wanted to.

“Wha’s wrong?” He asked still concentrated on his job. Once again, you were surprised on how he could know something was not right. “I can see all over ya that somethin’ is bothering ya.”

“Today was a stressful day” You propped your elbows on your knees and rested your face between your hands. You recalled all the situation with Beth and Andrea, and you just wish this day didn’t happen, and it was far from being one of your worst days.

“Wha’ happened?” He lifted his head from his work and took a look at you. You looked tired, everyone was always tired nowadays, but it was not only physical it seemed that your mind was also tired.

“Andrea was a bitch. I swear I tried to be on good terms with her again. And Beth tried the way out, I believe encouraged by Andrea. Maggie left them alone and Andrea also left Beth alone.” You gave him the short story of all that happened. “I should have gone with you.”

“Yeah, ya should.” That was his way of saying ‘I missed you’.

Soon you saw the car in which Rick, Shane and Randall left arriving back in the property. When you saw Rick getting off the car you felt relieved to see him, but apparently they had comeback with Randall. Shit, it wasn’t over. As soon as Daryl finished skinning and cleaning the hunt, you went to to the camp to meet Rick and know what happened.

Once you arrived you saw that Rick had bruises and cuts on his face, no way it was the kid, walkers? No. It was Shane. Damn, he had the audacity to attack Rick. You didn’t even think, you turned around, hot headed and ready to go look for Shane and beat the hell out of him.

“Where d’ya think ya’re going?” Daryl hold your arm stopping you to go anywhere. He knew where you were going, sometimes he could read you so easily that it surprised him.

“I’m going to give Shane hell, nobody gets to touch my brother.” You yanked your arm from Daryl’s hand, just for him to catch you again, holding his arms around you so you couldn’t go. That wasn’t the moment for you to be reckless.

“Y/N, do you think I was just beaten? I also beat him.” Rick reasoned with you.

“Either way, it wasn’t enough, he deserves worse.” You said, still fighting – in vain - in Daryl’s arm.

“Woman, stop. Ya’re being more hot-head and stubborn than me.” Daryl turned you around and hold you by the shoulders. “Look at me.” He commanded, and you looked at him, right in his beautiful blue eyes. “Don’t do anything stupid. He’s uncontrollable and ya know it. If he lays a finger on ya, I dunno what I’m capable of doing and I dun wanna find out.”

“Ok.” You answered and didn’t try to go for Shane, but you still felt like ending him. “Why did you bring the kid back?” You directed the question to Rick.

“He said he studied with Maggie. Which means he knows where the farm is.” Rick ran his hand on his face. “We’ll need another solution.”

The other day, after breakfast, Daryl went to the room where Randall was, he said he was going to talk with him. It was taking a long time for him to return and you were starting to get worried.

“Ok, that’s it. I’m going to see what is taking him so long to come back.” You told your brother.

“Don’t, the kid is handcuffed. There’s nothing he can do against Daryl.” Rick said standing on your way. “I don’t wanna you close to that guy.”

“I think you had said you’d stop treating me like a child, Rick.” You looked at his face and you could see there was something wrong. “Are you two hiding something? That’s it? Now you have secret agreements between both of you?”

Before Rick could say anything, you saw Daryl coming in your direction. Was that Blood on his hand? ‘Holy shit! What the hell have you done Daryl Dixon?’, you thought. He arrived telling you all the information he got from the kid, there were 30 in his group, they were violent and dangerous, they raped women. You followed Daryl to your tent, you could feel he was still angry, so you were thinking about what should be the best approach.

“D. Let me see your hands.” You requested and he started organizing his things to leave and go into the woods.

“There’s nothing to see, I’m good.” He said with some arrows in his hand.

“Daryl.” He ignored you.

“Daryl Dixon.” He ignored you again, stuffing things on his backpack, so you just got close to him silently and yanked his backpack throwing it on the ground.

“What the fuck Y/N?” He shouted at you, now you had his full attention.

“Stop, this shit! I’m talking to you, your hands are hurt! Let me take care of them.” You told him your voice high. He looked at you impatient. You took his hand and guided him to one of the beach chairs. “Sit.”

“I ain’t a dog.” He complained while you made him sit.

“So, why are you obeying me?” You threw back while you picked the First Aid kit inside the tent. You were playing with fire and you knew it.

He tried to get up while he mumbled something in protest that you couldn’t understand. But you were faster than him and pressed his shoulder down so he would sit again. You took the other chair and brought it close to him, sitting in front of him, your legs between his so you could be closer to take care of his hand.

“Gimme your paw, I mean, your hand.” You joked one hand extended on his direction waiting for him to give you his hand. “If I’m a puppy, you might as well be one. Or maybe you’re a Kitten, you are as skittish as one.”

He gave you his left hand very reluctantly, but he knew you would not let him be if he didn’t. You took his hand and saw how his knuckles were hurt, your heart ache by seeing his hand like this, but you also felt uneasy about the young man that was on the other side of his fist. You took some alcohol and wet a cotton swab to pass where he was hurt.

“It’s gonna hurt.” You alerted him, he didn’t say anything. He just observed your small hand holding his and tendering his wounds with the cotton swab, hissing when it hurt too much. “Did Rick ask you to do this?”

“No.” He answered, short… good he didn’t want to talk.

“Did he know about it?”

“Maybe.” He answered eyes on your hands now cleaning the wounds with boric-water.

“Or he did or he didn’t. Gonna take it as he did, he was acting suspect.” You stated, looking at your first aid kit for some ointment.

“Are ya angry at me?” He asked while you passed the ointment on his wounds.

“No, just concerned and upset. Gimme your other hand.” You took his other hand and started to give the same care. “I don’t like both of you hiding things from me.”

“ ‘m sorry, ya dun agree with what I’ve done, do ya?” He asked, head still down paying attention to you.

“Torturing isn’t right.”

“I didn’t have an option, we needed the information about his group.” You cleaned his other hand. “His group… the things he said they did… he’s not someone to be around or for us to let go, he knows where the farm is.”

“So, do you think we should kill him?” You asked a cotton swab passing on his hand.

“Yes.” He said, you were conflicted. You were always taught that killing was wrong, you can’t take life from someone. Unless it’s a walker, of course. Or, if your life is in danger. But execute someone? It sounded wrong, but at the same time… you should think about the group safety. “Don’t ya agree?”

“I don’t know… I think it’s wrong, but I also see that we’re out of better options.” You passed the ointment on his hand.

“Are ya comin’ to the woods with me?” He asked a little apprehensive that you wouldn’t want to be with him because you were upset.

“Thought you’d never ask.” You looked at him and smiled, no way you’d be stuck in the farm again in the middle of all the chaos.

You were having things done to go, when you saw Dale arriving followed by Luna swinging her tail. Dale came to talk to you about the decision of killing Randall, he wanted to know what both of you thought, and of course try to convince you otherwise if you thought the boy should be killed.

“I’m not sure Dale, really. At the same time I think we shouldn’t, I don’t see any other solution.” You said, despite you thought your opinion would not be so important in the end. Dale tried reasoning with Daryl to no avail.

“This group’s broken.” He said, and when you heard that… you couldn’t help but feel bad. Was really your group broken? Did Daryl think the group wasn’t good enough for him anymore? Did he want to leave? Would he leave without you? Would he even tell you if he decided to leave? Was he tired of you?

You were so caught up in your anxious thoughts that you didn’t even saw that Dale was long gone and Daryl was calling you so you could go. “Pup, what’s wrong?” He asked, his hand waving in front of you worried.

“Nothing.” You lied, and he knew you lied. “Let’s go?”

He got his things, you got yours, Luna followed you and you walked silently until you reached the woods. You were open and comfortable with Daryl, you always were and it even annoyed you some times, because you would speak whatever is on your mind, and in your opinion you said things you shouldn’t say. But you couldn’t talk about your feelings, or you tried not to, because of a bunch of insecurities clouding your thoughts. He wasn’t also very comfortable about talking about feelings, so it was understandable, but at the same time he felt uneasy if he didn’t know everything that’s on your mind. He held your hand and it startled you from your unstoppable thoughts.

“Ya lied again.” He didn’t took his eyes from the woods searching for any danger or possible hunt. His voice didn’t change the tone, there was no anger or negative feelings on his speaking.

“I don’t wanna talk about my feelings.” You said looking at your feet attentive to where you stepped, your other hand slightly brushing over Luna’s head.

“But I want to know what ya’re feeling. I need to.” He said, damn… did he sound vulnerable? Was he weak? He couldn’t allow himself to look pathetic and weak, but he also didn’t want to mistreat you. “ ‘m not good talking ‘bout feelings, but I always need to know yers.”

You stopped walking and you turned to him, now holding both of his hands, or more like his hands engulfing yours. “Be honest.”

“Never lied to ya.” He said looking at your face while you were looking down at your hands. “Look at me, please.”

You lifted your head, looking right at his eyes and all you saw was worry. You took a deep breath taking all the courage you had to speak. “Are you…” ‘not happy with me?’ You wanted to complete but stopped mid-sentence. “Do you wanna leave us?”

“Of course not. Where did this come from?” He asked, but before you could answer his mind started to put the pieces together. “That’s because I said the group’s broken, isn’t it?”

“Yes” you said, just that. Unable to say more or add anything else that were running like a tornado inside your mind.

“It wasn’t a lie. I think the group’s broken. Shane’s crazy. Andrea’s reckless and listens to Shane. Carol’s still broken because of Sophia. Glenn… if Hershel decided to kick us from the farm, he’d stay behind and I don’t blame him. This group isn’t like it used to be, not that we were perfect befor’ , we never were.” You took all his words putting everything together and trying to reason what he said. Still feeling uneasy. “Wha’s on yer head?”

“It’s just… when you said it, it seemed like you didn’t care anymore about the group or what happens with it.” You looked at his growing bangs that fell on his forehead, or you wouldn’t be able to say it if you looked at his eyes. “Or…” You paused, no, no, you couldn’t say what you were thinking not at all. You’d scare him, he’d leave you.

“Or wha’ baby?” You looked at his eyes again, and with the worry you saw a softness that you didn’t quite know what it meant. He never called you ‘baby’ outside of the sheets and it made your heart jump and butterflies fly in your stomach.

“Or…” you shifted your eyes to look at your hands, tears threatening to fall. Shit. Why were you so emotional and making a big thing of something this small. “That you didn’t want me and would leave.”

Things had been so good between both of you, that Daryl forgot you still had traumas from your past relationship, traumas that would trigger only when you were in a relationship and could experience things again. And now, was one of those moments. He couldn’t imagine half the shit you’ve been put through so you’d think he would leave you or that he didn’t want you, after he asked you to live with him, after he showed you his scars… after both of you broke so many walls that were built around yourselves.

He let go of your hands and hugged you, you always reassured him when he had his insecurities, now was the moment for him to do the same for you. “I ain’t leaving.” One of his arms was around your waist while the other was in your head bringing your face to hide between his chest and shoulder. “I want ya, and I dun see myself not wanting ya any time soon.”

It was as if a tap was open and the tears that were in your eyes fell making you let little sniffs and hold both hands on Daryl’s vest. “I told Rick, and I’m telling ya now, I ain’t playing with ya.” He didn’t put any names on what you had, he never said ‘I like you’ or ‘I love you’, he didn’t even know how to name what he felt or if he could feel any of those things. But he knew he wanted you, he needed you and he was going to protect you. He had already told you, you were his and indirectly that he was yours, but he couldn’t bring any of those words, these simple words scared him… So he said what he could manage to come out of his mouth. “We’re together.”

You took your face from his chest and looked at his face, he was serious, this wasn’t any sick joke. You should’ve known, you knew Daryl, he wasn’t like that… and you never doubted it. You shouldn’t start doing it now just because you had a relationship. He was not him. He was Daryl and you knew you could trust him. “I’m sorry. I think my period is close, or something…” It was probably something, but you could always blame the hormones, so why not?

He kissed the top of your head tenderly and looked at your face again, now you were better. You looked more like yourself when there wasn’t all those intrusive thoughts and anxiety. “What do ya say I teach ya a little bit of hunting and tracking?” He asked.

“I was waiting for the day you’d offer me this.” You smiled, your hands now resting flat open on his chest. “I’d love if you taught me.”

When it was close to sunset you and Daryl came back to the farm, you didn’t hunt anything as he taught you were still learning so it didn’t go good. He held your hand in his intertwining your fingers and you walked in silence, Luna leading the way in front of you sometimes stopping to wait for your slow asses.

In the moment you arrived at the farm Rick made a call, he was waiting for both of you to make a reunion so everyone could say their opinions about the boy Randall. Everyone except Dale wanted to kill the young man, Dale was extremely disappointed. You still didn’t know what to think about it, but you knew Dale was right.

“I’m with Dale.” You suddenly said and walked to stay by Dale’s side, even though you knew there was no way of winning the vote, you wanted to stay true to yourself. “He’s not his group and as far as we know he didn’t commit a crime that he deserves death penalty.”

You felt like you would combust at any moment just by the stares of Rick and Daryl that didn’t quite understand why you were siding with Dale and not thinking clearly about the wellbeing of the group. Shane also looked at you like you were insane, but you didn’t give a single fuck about it, so it was ok. The others were neutral at you. Soon Andrea also said she was with Dale, but in the end you three weren’t enough to deprive the group from killing Randall.

Everybody left the room to continue their activities, it was getting dark so Daryl, Rick and Shane would take the prisoner to do what they needed to. You were ready to descend the porch stairs when Daryl held your arm slightly and put you aside.

“We need to talk.” He said, and you already knew.

“Is it because I agreed with Dale?” You asked, you knew the answer. “Do you hate me because I disagreed from the group?” All that mattered was that if he would change about you just because you didn’t agree with them.

“Yeah, and I dun hate ya.” Actually it was quite the opposite, but he was concerned about your choices.

“I knew the majority of us would choose his death, my vote would make no difference. So I decided to stay true to myself.” You said, you could see understanding crossing his face by each word you said. “Just because I don’t think it’s right, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t need to be done.”

He nodded at you. “Alright, I ain’t upset. Go stay with Lori while we do this.”

You were with Lori when you saw the three taking Randall to the barn, you held your sister’s hand as a comfort for you. You weren’t going to see the execution, but knowing someone, a human being would be killed in the same place you were was scaring. You were comfortable killing walkers, they weren’t alive anymore, they were just walking corpses. In reality you thought it was merciful to kill the monster that once was a person.

“Don’t think much about it, it’s worse if you do.” Lori tried to calm your nerves, but it was impossible to not think about it.

After some time you didn’t listen to any gun shot and soon you saw Rick and Carl arriving to camp. Wait, Carl? Shit. Shit. Shit. Rick explained that Carl went there to see and that he was encouraging to kill the man. What was happening to the kid? He couldn’t lose himself so quickly like this. Rick wasn’t able to do this with Carl looking, so he postponed the execution.

“Where’s Daryl?” You asked, you saw everyone but him.

“He’s locking Randall again, he’s probably gonna be here soon.” As soon as he finished talking all of you listened to extremely pained screams.

Dale!

You ran in the direction of the screams, Daryl being the first to arrive started shouting for help. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. It was bad. All of you arrived almost at the same time and what you saw was heartbreaking, all his guts coming out of his ripped stomach. No. You cried. No.

“Hershel!” Rick shouted, the only thing he thought was you all needed him there to take care of Dale.

“It’s too late, Rick.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks. You knew as much medicine as Hershel knew, both of you vets, the old man was just more experienced and have treated more people than you, that had only cleaned T.’s wound and took care of Daryl’s hands. “There’s nothing he can do.”

Hershel arrived and said the same thing, you couldn’t even move Dale. He was agonizing. Andrea pleaded that someone did something. Everyone was in pain by seeing Dale like that. He didn’t deserve this kind of death. Rick aimed his gun at Dale, it was best if someone ended this for him. You turned your back, you didn’t want to see, you had already seen more than you wanted to see. You wait for the gun shot, but before you listen to it there’s a raspy voice. “Sorry, brother.” And soon after Daryl’s voice the sound of the shot.

You were waiting for the shot. You knew it was going to happen, but you jumped at it a cry living your lips. You covered your mouth trying to muffle your sobs. You felt a pain in your chest, everybody felt it. There were cries, sobs and lamenting.

That night you cried yourself to sleep, and it wasn’t a peaceful one, even having Daryl’s soothing presence near you.

Dale was the group’s heart and now you felt like your group were definitely broken.

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